


Start Again

by tuppenny



Series: Growing Together [19]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (don't worry I'm not killing off any newsies), Abduction, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add more tags as this goes along..., Major Character Injury, Mentioned Past Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Miscarriage, Yelling, a few curse words, and check the tags/starts of chapters for warnings, brief panic attack, but I'm going for the emotional jugular, if you're okay with my other stuff you should be okay with this, so like... be forewarned?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 77,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuppenny/pseuds/tuppenny
Summary: Someone from Jack's past shows up and wreaks havoc on his future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical morning in the Kelly household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kicked around several possible titles for this-- picked Start Again because of [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5153ccdktA), which I love.
> 
> Ellie is 5, Nicky is 2 ½, Theo is 16mos.

**April 1914**

Jack woke up to the sound of Theo burbling happily in between him and Katherine, and he opened his eyes ever so slightly to see his youngest child poking at a mole on Katherine’s arm. Katherine was awake, too—her children had forced her to renounce the night owl habits of her younger days. Her eyes were focused on Theo, and the peacefulness Jack saw in them made his heart flip. They had both been so worried that Katherine would slip away from herself again after Nicky’s birth, and they’d both given thanks when she’d been right as rain, despite her father's unexpected death a month later. After Theo—Theodore James, really, but that was a mouthful—she’d been equally chipper (well, as chipper as anyone can be with three children under the age of five), but Jack still worried about her. Moments like this reassured him that he didn’t have to, though. It seemed that whatever she’d gone through with Ellie, whatever had stolen her away, had been banished for good. Katherine gave a soft laugh as Theo stuck his fingers into her mouth and grinned up at his mother.

“Mommy,” he said, jabbing one finger into her arm and grasping for her tongue with his other hand.

“Yes, Theo?” She mumbled around his fingers, and Theo patted her on the arm.

“Mommy, mommy!” Katherine pulled his hand out of her mouth and kissed his forehead, and he giggled and sat up, turning to see if Jack was awake. “Daddy!” He cried, seeing that Jack’s eyes were open.

“Mornin’, Theo,” Jack murmured, still half asleep. “Gimme a kiss?” Theo scooted over to Jack and complied before returning to Katherine and lying back down next to her, snuggling his head under her chin.

“Good morning, husband dearest,” she said with a smile, grateful for a calm start to the morning.

“G’morning, Ace,” he replied, stretching his arms and yawning. “I sure am glad this one takes after his brother when it comes ta sleeping through the night,” he said, nodding at Theo.

Katherine smiled and wrapped her arms around her baby. “Our sweet little bear,” she said, dipping her head to kiss Theo’s dark brown hair. “Maybe the next one will take after the boys, too.”

Jack chuckled. “We’ll have to wait a while before finding that out,” he said, reaching out a hand to stroke his wife’s hair.

“Not that long,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Only about eight months.”

Jack’s hand froze and his jaw dropped. “No,” he gasped. “You don’t mean—”

“I do,” she said, beaming. “I’m pregnant.”

“Our fourth,” Jack breathed, still in shock. “Katherine, you angel, I—” Completely overcome, he grabbed one of Katherine’s hands and pressed it to his lips.

“Looks like we’ll have a Christmas baby,” she said, gently pulling her hand back from him and using it to wipe away the tears that had already gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“I can’t imagine a better present,” he said, his voice choked. Katherine laughed and shifted so that she could hug him, and Theo squeaked as he found himself pressed tightly—but contentedly—between them. She kissed Jack on the mouth, stroked her thumbs across his cheeks, and pressed her forehead to his. Jack reacted like this every single time, and she loved him for it.

“I can’t wait to have your baby, Jack Kelly,” she whispered, smiling tenderly at the man she’d been married to for nearly a decade.

“Ace,” he said, tears still making their way down his cheeks. “We’s gonna have another baby, Ace. Another child. Our child.”

“That’s right, dear heart,” she said, reaching across Theo to smooth Jack’s hair back. “Are you happy?”

Jack gave a strangled laugh. “I’m the happiest man alive,” he said, trying to stop crying. “I never thought I’d ever have a family of my own, and now…” He shook his head in wonder and took a shuddering breath. “Now I have you an’ my Ellie-girl an’ little Nicky an’ our baby bear here, plus Charlie an’ his lot, an’ Davey an’ his, an’…” He paused and scrubbed at his face, completely overwhelmed. “An’ now you’s tellin’ me we’s gonna have another one, that I’s gonna get a whole nother child ta love an’ hold an’ call my own, an’ I… I… hell, Ace, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I think you’ve about covered it,” she said, her tone ever so slightly teasing.

“A baby,” Jack whispered, reaching a hand down to Katherine’s stomach. “Hi there, baby.”

“Baby!” Theo crowed, bouncing up and down in between his parents. “Ba-by, ba-by, ba-by, ba-by!” He chanted, slapping his hands on his thighs.

“You’re my baby, Theo-bear,” Katherine said, sitting halfway up to grab him around the waist and pull him close, tickling him and making growly bear noises as she did so.

“Mommy!” He shrieked, dissolving into giggles as she pressed kisses into his neck and hugged him tightly to her chest. He wiggled and started to make chewing motions with his mouth before slapping his hands on Katherine’s shoulders.

“Are you hungry?” Katherine asked, releasing him.

“Yeh!” Theo said with enthusiasm.

“Okay. We’ll go eat breakfast then, baby.”

“Baby!” Theo sang again, and Jack laughed.

“Baby?” Eleanor said, running into the room and skidding to a stop against the bed. “Baby!” She squealed, her eyes alighting on Theodore. “How’s my baby?” She clambered up onto the bed and crawled over Katherine’s hips and stomach, her sharp little knees jabbing into her mother’s abdomen.

“Oof,” said Katherine, rolling her eyes at Jack. “Oblivious offspring.”

“You got that right,” Jack said, grunting as Theo threw himself backwards and knocked his head into Jack’s ribcage.

Theo flung his arms wide and reached towards his big sister. “Eh-ee!”

“G’morning, Bear,” Ellie cooed, holding Theo’s head still so that she could kiss his cheek. “Are you hungry? You want breakfast?”

“Yeh!” Theo said, squirming out of his sister’s grasp and making chewing motions again.

“C’mon, Mommy, c’mon, Daddy, ‘s breakfast time,” Ellie said, helping Theo climb over Katherine and holding him protectively around his middle as he slid off the side of the bed. “C’mon!” She urged again, pausing in the doorway, Theo’s hand in hers, waiting for her parents to finally get up.

“Give us a minute, Ellie-girl,” Jack said, his voice still rough with sleep and emotion. “I need to talk to Mommy alone for a bit.”

Ellie gave him a confused look, her distinctive eyebrows pulled tightly together.

“Go on, muffin,” Katherine said, “We’ll be there in just a second.” Ellie hesitated, and Katherine added, “Would you start setting the table, please? It’s Sunday, so Daddy’s going to make eggs before church.”

“Okay,” Ellie said. “Let’s go, Theo. You want a ‘nana while we wait for Mommy an’ Daddy?”

Theo nodded and began toddling down the hallway, hand in hand with his big sister. Jack and Katherine shared a look, holding their breath as they heard their children’s footsteps recede. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but he’d barely gotten a word out before Nicholas poked his head into the room. “Mommy, Daddy?”

“Yes, Bug?” Katherine said, rolling onto her other side to face him.

“Nicky wet.”

“Is your bed wet, Nicky, or just your nighttime underwear?”

“Unnawear,” Nicky said, leaning on the door frame and swinging his foot back and forth across the floor.

“Okay, pumpkin. Let’s get you into some clean daytime underwear, then.” Katherine pushed herself up and out of bed, and Jack whined in protest.

“I wanted to kiss you, darlin’,” he said. “Come back.”

“If you want to kiss me, you’re going to have to catch me,” Katherine teased, tossing a pillow at him and then racing to scoop Nicholas up before running down the hall and into the nursery with him.

“You’re on, Katherine Kelly,” Jack yelled, disentangling himself from the sheets and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m comin’ for ya, Ace!” He yelled, his bare feet slapping against the floor. “Ya can’t outrun me forever!”

“Oh, just watch me!” She called, her laughter echoing down the hallway. “I’m in training for the Olympics, didn’t you know?”

“Is that so?” Jack slid into the nursery, a delighted grin on his face. “Well, it looks like I caught you anyway. You and this little monster here,” he said, growling as he lifted Nicky above his head and nuzzled at his son’s stomach. “Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha!” He taunted, draping his freshly changed son over his shoulder and using his free arm to pull Katherine in close. Their laughter stilled as their lips met, and they broke the kiss smiling.

“Damn if I don’t love you, Ace,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Damn!” Nicky echoed, kicking his feet against Jack’s chest.

Katherine smacked Jack’s free shoulder and gave him a murderous look.

“Oops?” Jack hedged, brushing his nose and smiling sheepishly. “I mean… Hey, Nicky, what did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”

“Damn!” Nicky yelled gleefully, starting to giggle.

“I give up,” Katherine said, throwing her hands into the air. “Go make eggs for our little ruffians, you terrible influence, you.”

Jack winked, hearing the amusement beneath her annoyance. “Yes’m,” he said. “Comin’ right up.” He slapped Nicky’s bottom and marched the two of them off to the kitchen, whistling the whole way.

“You’re still the most impossible boy ever,” Katherine muttered, following along after. “But damn if I don’t love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I wrote this like a month to a month and a half ago. *NOW* I have nothing saved up to post. But I do have ideas, and this whole thing is plotted, so hopefully it won't take me too long to update. 
> 
> And now, dear readers, a very important announcement: The fluff is over, so buckle up, put yourself in my evil hands, and trust me as I break your heart and put it back together. (Or something like that, anyway. I guess we'll find out ;) )


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice day out takes a dark turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeny bit of blood is mentioned in this. All kids are fine; the same cannot be said of all of the adults.
> 
> Miriam is 19 months; Ellie is 5.

**June 1914**

 

“Pshh, you wouldn’t dare, Davey,” Jack said, shoving his friend slightly as they walked down the street.

“Oh, deep down I’m ruthless,” David joked. “I’d toss you into shark-infested waters without a second thought.”

“And here I thought we were friends! I’m crushed!” Jack faked dismay and looked down at Eleanor, who was holding his hand tightly. “Ellie-girl, Uncle Day is a big stinker, an’ don’t you forget it.” 

Ellie wrinkled her forehead and looked up at her father. “Uncle Day takes a bath ev’ry day, Daddy. He told me so last time he babysat us.” 

“Did he, now?”

“Mhmm,” Eleanor said seriously. “He said _he_ did, so I should, too.” 

“You don’t, though,” Jack pointed out. 

“No,” Ellie agreed, shaking her head, ringlets bouncing furiously. “I hate baths.” 

David chuckled. Katherine had had to enlist Chaya’s help in figuring out how to wash and comb Eleanor’s curly hair without hurting the girl’s tender head and sparking an evening of screams and tears. Things had improved, but Ellie still associated baths with after-bath fights and lobbied hard to avoid both of those things whenever possible. 

“Baths are good for you, Bunny,” Jack pointed out. “Otherwise you’d get so dirty that flowers would grow right outta your skin.”

Eleanor drew her eyebrows together. “Noooo,” she said uncertainly. “You’re teasing. People don’t grow flowers!” She bit her lip and scampered in front of the two men to reach up for Davey’s free hand, whispering loudly, “Do they, Uncle Day?” 

“No, Eleanor,” he reassured her. “Your daddy is just being silly.” 

Eleanor sighed in relief, then poked her head around Davey’s legs to make eye contact with Miriam, who was holding Davey’s other hand and tripping along. “Hear that, Mimi? You don’t hafta take baths.” 

Miriam blinked at Eleanor and gave her a sloppy smile around the fingers she had jammed into her mouth.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Davey cautioned, but Eleanor was already darting in front of him to walk next to Miriam and impart all of her five-year-old wisdom to her young and impressionable cousin.

Jack laughed.

“She’s corrupting Miriam just like you corrupted me and Les,” Davey complained, watching his daughter listen raptly to Eleanor’s every word. 

“And you both turned out great,” Jack said, clapping Davey on the shoulder. “Good jobs, good wives, good kids.” 

“And good friends,” Davey replied, his casual tone belying the seriousness of his words. 

“Mmm,” Jack said, deeply pleased. He jostled Davey again. “Go jump in those shark-infested waters, idiot.”

Davey laughed, then looked back over to his daughter, who was pulling on his hand, her eyes wide. “ _Na, Mirele?”_ She briefly removed her fingers from her mouth to tug at her skirt. “ _Must du pishn?_ ” She nodded, and he started scouting the area. “I think Lohmann’s has a bathroom,” he mused. “Mind if we stop off for a second, Jack?” 

“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Fathers gotta stick together when it comes to toilet training.” 

Davey shot him a grateful look and steered Miriam into the grocer’s while herding Ellie back over to Jack.

“C’n we get candy, Daddy?” Ellie asked, pressing her nose up to the glass storefront window.

“I don’t think so, baby,” Jack said, “It’s nearly dinnertime.”

“I been real good today, though,” Ellie wheedled, salivating at the sight of the large glass jars of penny candy arranged by the cash register.

“You have,” Jack agreed. “Maybe we can—” He broke off as someone sidled up right next to him, gasping as he felt a sharp pain streak across his back as he jerked away from their grip. 

“Jack Kelly?”

“Who wants to know?” Jack asked, stiffening as a tall man flashed a knife, already pink with Jack’s blood, and pulled him in close.

“An old pal,” the man leered. “I been paid handsome ta bring ya to him for a heart-to-heart.”

“No thanks,” Jack said, trying to tug away again, freezing immediately as he felt the knife press more firmly against his back. 

“You don’t got a choice,” the man said, pushing the blade gently into Jack’s skin. 

“Daddy?” Eleanor said, turning to ask him another question. She frowned upon seeing the stranger. “Who’s that?”

Jack swallowed hard and looked at the man, who grinned. “Ya want I should take her instead? She’ll serve our purposes just fine.”

“No!” Jack barked, startling Eleanor. “No, that won’t be necessary,” he repeated, in control of himself once more.

“Good,” the man said. “Now come along, Mr. Kelly. Any trouble from you an’ the little girl gets it.” He cocked his head, considering. “You might, too, just f’r good measure. We clear?”

Jack gritted his teeth. “Crystal.”

“Let’s go, then,” he said, turning Jack to steer him into an alleyway.

“Daddy?” Ellie said again, and Jack was glad to hear that her voice was confused, yes, but not at all frightened.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said gently. “This man came to tell me I’m needed at the office, that’s all.” Eleanor nodded skeptically. “And I’m sorry, baby, but I have to go right now. So you go on inside and find Uncle Day, alright? He’ll take you home.”

Eleanor shrugged. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” Jack said, keeping his voice steady as the man continued to pull him away from his daughter. “And astoreen? I love you and Mommy and the boys very much, okay? Tell them that? Tell Mommy I’ll be home as soon as I can manage it?”

“Mhmm,” Ellie said, her nose already pressed back to the glass to ogle the candy.

“Go inside _now_ , Eleanor,” Jack said sternly, feeling a wave of slight relief as she shot him a pouty look but obeyed.

“Touching,” the man said, his voice dry. “Let’s go.” 

Jack briefly considered trying to make a break for it, but this man was so much taller, so much heavier, and he could feel the prick of the knifepoint at the base of his spine, and his baby girl was just around the corner, and who knew what would happen if this man got mad, and… no. He wouldn’t put Eleanor in danger. Not ever. Jack bit his lower lip, sent up a prayer, and let the man drag him into the dark, fetid stink of the alley.

 

*

 

When Davey emerged from the restroom with Miriam, he found Eleanor waiting for him by the door, singing softly to herself. He scanned the store and frowned, seeing neither hide nor hair of Jack. “Where’s your dad, Ellie?” 

“Work,” Ellie said, pushing off from the wall. “Can we get candy?” 

“Work?” David echoed. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“Daddy had to go to work,” Eleanor explained, wandering over to the counter with the penny candy jars. “He said you’d take me home.” She looked up then, a little concerned. “You will, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Davey said, still confused. It was Sunday, and Jack usually took Sunday afternoons off, spending the day with his family, waiting until the kids were in bed before he went to _The World_ to finalize his Monday cartoon. That’s why the two of them had chosen today for a joint father-daughter excursion—they were both free. Had Jack suddenly remembered an overdue project? That seemed unlikely; Jack might look like the sort of person who would be flighty and scattered, but he wasn’t, not in the slightest. And it wasn’t as if someone from _The World_ would know he was here to call him in for a last-minute assignment… David frowned. “Did he say anything more, Eleanor?”

“A man from work came,” she grunted, trying to lift Miriam up so the toddler could look at the candy, too. “So Daddy went to work, and he said you’d take me home. Can we get candy? I been good today.”

“You have,” Davey agreed, absently handing Eleanor two pennies so that he could puzzle this through while she picked out something for herself and something for Miriam. “What did the man from work look like, Ellie?”

“Tall,” Eleanor said. Davey sighed; that didn’t mean much. Practically everyone was tall to a five-year-old, especially an unusually petite one.

“Do you remember anything else about him?”

She pushed out her lower lip in thought. “Kinda mean looking,” she admitted. “His face was all prickly. Daddy didn’t seem to like him very much.”

“And he said they were going to work? Which way did they go?”

“The alley,” Eleanor said blithely. “It’s a stinky alley, Uncle Day. I don’t like that alley.”

Davey nodded even as he felt his throat begin to close up. He helped the girls order and pay for their candy (well, he stood behind Eleanor while she made the purchase) and then, certain he was overreacting, asked Mr. Lohmann to watch the children for just a minute while he checked on something. The man nodded, and Davey sprinted outside, looking up and down the street. No sign of Jack. If Jack had truly been going to work, he would have walked back the direction they’d just come, but after running for three blocks with no sign of Jack, David concluded that something was horribly wrong. He dashed into the alleyway and followed it until it opened out onto a cross-street. Still no Jack. He tamped down the rising panic and returned to the grocery store.

After thanking the grocer, he placed Miriam on his hip and held his hand out to Eleanor. “We have to make a little detour, girls,” he said. “Walk quickly, please, Eleanor. It’s important.” 

She hummed her agreement, happily sucking on her grape-flavored candy.

 _Please let this be a fool’s errand,_ David thought to himself. _Please let the police tell me I’m an absolute idiot, because Jack is at work and everything’s fine. Please. I can’t… I don’t…_ He gave himself an internal kick. _Emotions off, Jacobs_ , he reminded himself, and picked up the pace. “Let’s go, Eleanor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yiddish: 
> 
> Must du pishn-- do you have to pee
> 
> Mirele-- nickname for Miriam


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Davey spreads the news.

David managed to keep his face blank as he practically dragged Eleanor alongside him, but the fact that he was hurrying her despite her protests made her suspicious anyway. The fact that he was now trying to tug her into a police station didn’t help, either.

“Uncle Day!” She squeaked, reading the sign above the door. “Uncle Day, we can’t go in there!”

“We have to, Eleanor,” he said firmly, pulling on her hand. 

“We can’t,” she insisted, refusing to lift her little feet. 

“Eleanor,” he snapped. “This is important. I need you to behave.”

Her lower lip began to tremble. “But it’s the _police,”_ she whispered, her eyes flicking from David to the doorway in front of them. 

“Yes,” he said, wishing he had another piece of candy to bribe Ellie with. “And we need their help.” 

“But they won’t help us,” Eleanor said, her voice wobbly. “The police are the bad guys, Uncle Day. Daddy said so. We— we should go in a store instead,” she insisted, and he could feel her trying to pull him back onto the street. “We should go in a store an’ find a mommy. That’s what you’re s’posed to do when you need help.” 

“Usually, yes. But this time we need the police. And we need them quickly, Eleanor, so come along.”

Her eyes welled with tears as he forced her to follow him, and she began to cry, her voice growing increasingly frantic. “Uncle Day! Please! Uncle Day, Uncle Davey, we can’t, we can’t— please! Uncle _David!”_

He froze at the use of his full name and squeezed his eyes shut to gather himself. Then he sank down to Eleanor’s level, shifting Miriam onto one of his thighs. “Do you know the story of Moses, Eleanor?” 

She nodded, still crying.

“Do you remember when he lived in Egypt?”

“He was a baby inna river,” she sobbed.

“That’s right,” Davey said soothingly. “And do you remember what happened when he wanted to leave Egypt with all of the Israelites?” 

She hiccupped and then cried even harder. “Pharaoh said no.”

“He did,” Davey said. “So Moses went back and asked him again, and again, and again, until the answer was finally yes. Was Pharaoh a good guy, Eleanor?”

She shook her head no, sending ropes of snot flying from her nose.

“So why did Moses talk to him at all?” 

Ellie blinked and stopped crying, finally having been asked a question she couldn’t answer. 

Davey answered it for her. “Because Pharaoh was the only person who could help Moses. Moses didn’t want to talk to him, but he had to, because only Pharaoh could help.” 

Eleanor frowned and wiped at her eyes. “God could’ve.”

David rubbed her shoulder. “Well, yes, but he isn’t a person, right?”

Ellie frowned even deeper. “Jesus is, an’ Jesus is God.” 

Davey sighed internally. He was not going to get into a theological debate with a five-year-old. “Jesus… Jesus wasn’t born yet. So Moses had to talk to Pharaoh.”

Ellie thought for a second, digesting this information. “Okay.”

 _Thank heavens that worked._ He wobbled slightly in his squat. “So we have to go talk to the police now, just like Moses had to talk to Pharaoh. The police might not be the good guys, but they can help us.”

Eleanor sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “An’ a mommy in a store can’t?” 

“Not this time,” Davey said, squeezing her hand. “Are you ready now?” 

Ellie nodded and jammed her thumb into her mouth. 

David stood back up. “Okay then.” He pushed open the door to the station and made his way to the front desk. “I’m here to report a…” He glanced at Eleanor. “An abduction.”

“Ya mean a kidnapping?” The cop asked, eyeing David. “That li’l girl there don’t look like yours.”

David flushed. “She’s not, but— Eleanor, go sit down, please,” he said, realizing there was no way he could get his point across to the officer without Ellie catching on, too. “She’s my friend’s daughter,” he explained, lowering his voice. “The four of us were on a walk and I took my daughter into the grocer’s and when we came out my friend was gone. Someone took him. I’m absolutely certain.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “How old is your friend?”

“Um…” Davey thought Jack was a year older than he was, but maybe it was two? Of course, that was assuming Jack’s self-reported age was anywhere near accurate, and trusting Jack on autobiographical details wasn’t always a good idea, and… The officer cleared his throat, and David snapped back to the real world. “Thirty?” 

“An’ he’s been missin’ how long?” 

He knew the answer to that one. “Half an hour.”

The cop shook his head. “Can’t do anythin’ for ya until he’s been gone at least a day.” 

 _“What?”_ Davey burst out, and he felt the tips of his ears begin to tingle. “But that might be too late! What if—what if he—” David shook his head to banish the ominous thoughts. “You have to act _quickly_ ,” he insisted, “He’s got a pregnant wife and three kids—he wouldn’t just wander off like that! Something’s gone horribly wrong and he needs help!” 

“A pregnant wife an’ three kids?” The police officer gave Davey a pitying look. “Mister, I’d say he’s _exactly_ the sort of man ta just ‘wander off like that.’ Happens all the time,” he said, pulling a stack of paperwork back in front of him and beginning to flip through it. “He’ll wander back on his own.” He scribbled a note at the bottom of a page and set it aside before pausing for a moment and looking up at David. “If he wants to, that is. Most of ‘em don’t.” 

“He’s not like that,” Davey said, his eyes narrow. “He would never leave his family. Never. There is no way in hell that Jack Kelly would leave his little girl alone and unsupervised in New York City, not even for a second.”

“An Irishman, huh?” The officer mused. “We gots a few o’ those workin’ in the precinct. Got more of ‘em in the cells, though,” he said, tugging open one of his desk drawers. “They’s lazy people—he prob’ly scarpered off because he didn’t want ta work ta feed another hungry mouth.”

“I _told_ you, he’s not _like_ that!” David insisted. He didn’t know why he was bothering to argue; he’d had his fair share of this sort of thing directed at him, and he had yet to persuade anyone to think differently. Of course, he usually didn’t protest when the abuse was hurled at _him_. Let them think what they wanted about him, because he knew that he’d built a good and honest life, that he was raising a bright and beautiful daughter, and that his family—both immediate and extended—were generous, kind, law-abiding folk. 

“Look, Mr. ….?” 

“Jacobs,” David said wearily. 

The cop raised an eyebrow. “Right. Well, Mr. Jacobs, we can’t do anything for ya until tomorrow. Gotta save our men f’r the surefire emergencies, ya know?” He pulled a crossword puzzle out from his stack of paperwork and bounced his pencil on the edge of his desk. “There’s too much crime an’ too few cops in this city, so I’m sure you understand that we can’t be chasin’ down every deadbeat husband what sneaks away from his fam’ly f’r a drink or three.” 

Davey ran his thumbs over his knuckles and tried to school his face into passivity. “Of course, officer. Of course. I’d like to give you my statement now, though, so that you don’t waste any time gathering it tomorrow afternoon when Jack still isn’t back and his case moves onto the list of surefire emergencies.” The man rolled his eyes, but David smiled expectantly and leaned in to motion at the crossword puzzle. “Will you be taking your notes on that, or do you need to get an official form?”

 

*

 

David’s considerable persuasive gifts had functioned even better on the cop than they usually did in the courtroom. Not only had he succeeded in giving his statement, but he’d also managed to acquire the names and badge numbers of the officers who would be on duty tomorrow, as well as the phone number for the precinct. Davey found that having names made it easier to convince people to talk to you, and he’d need all the help he could get in bringing Jack home. 

“…f’r dinner?”

David blinked as he caught the last words of Eleanor’s sentence. She’d been holding Davey’s free hand and skipping along as she chattered away to Miriam, who was still perched on his hip. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said in the last twenty minutes, lost in his own thoughts, and while that sort of mental holiday was fine with Chaya, who was usually silent herself, it was dangerous when applied to the Kellys. “Hm?” He said, jerking himself out of his thoughts.

“Are you an’ Mimi staying f’r dinner,” she repeated, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady,” he scolded. She was far too young for that. “And I don’t think so, no.” She sighed, and he squeezed her hand. “Actually, Ellie,” he said, thinking aloud, “I have to talk to your mommy for a bit when we get you home—will you read a book to Miriam while I do that, please?”

“Yeah!” Ellie said, the spring back in her step. “I’m gonna read to you, Mimi, okay? You can pick the book, I have lots of books, we can read the one about the ladybugs, or…” 

David slipped back into his head, trying simultaneously to plan what to say to Katherine and willing himself not to think about it at all. Miriam patted him on the chest as he thought and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. _“Mi-am geyn?”_ She asked, and he kissed her hair.

_“Nisht yest, zissele. Mir eilen zich.”_

She laid her head on his shoulder to pout, and he smiled. He was grateful that she threw silent tantrums. A child after his own heart, this one. He clutched her closer as they climbed the stairs up to the Kellys’ apartment. How was he going to tell Katherine…

“Mommy! I’m hooooooome!” Eleanor yelled, kicking off her shoes so that they flew into the corner and smacked against the wall. “C’mon, sweetie,” she said, reaching up for Miriam, whom Davey lowered gently to the ground. “Let’s go.” Miriam grabbed Ellie’s hand and tripped along after her cousin, who was already running down the hall, calling for her siblings at full volume. “Nicky! Theo-Bear! I’m back! Let’s read a book!” 

David’s heart clenched as he saw Theo and Nicky run out of the living room, fall in line behind Eleanor, and follow her into the nursery. Jack should be the one watching this, not him…

“You’re awfully quiet, dear heart,” Katherine’s voice came from the kitchen, and Davey felt his legs begin to shake.

“It’s Davey,” he said, walking into the kitchen without even bothering to remove his shoes the way Katherine liked people to. 

“Oh! Hi, Davey!” She said, straightening up from the counter, where she was slicing fruit for dinner. “How was your day out? Where’s Jack?” Her bright smile turned to exasperation as she saw how nervous he was. “He isn’t hiding something in the cellar, is he?” She wiped her hands off on the kitchen towel and huffed dramatically. “Did Ellie convince him to buy that bike for her? I _told_ him she was too young, and we’re low on space as it is, but she has him wrapped around her little finger, I swear—there’s not a thing in the world that he won’t buy for those kids, space and money be damned, and I—”

“Kath,” he interrupted. “He’s not downstairs. He…” He passed a hand across his eyes and shook his head. “You should sit down.”

“Davey,” she said, her tone warning. “Davey, it’s June, not April, Jack better not have put you up to a joke, I’m going to be furious, tell me right now if he—” 

“Sit,” he ordered, and she frowned, pulling out a kitchen chair. Davey flinched slightly at the screech the wood made as it slid across the floor, and he ran his thumb over his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. He took a deep breath to steady himself, opened his mouth to speak, and nothing came out.

“David,” she said slowly, her hands wadding up the fabric of her skirt. “You’re scaring me. Where’s Jack.”

“I don’t know,” Davey said hoarsely, and explained the whole story. As he narrated the events of the afternoon he felt less and less like himself and more and more like a spectator in the scene. He could hear himself continuing to speak, yes, but he wasn’t standing in front of Katherine anymore; he was hovering by the ceiling, watching everything unfold.

From his new vantage point he saw the sweat trickling down the back of his neck, the stiffness of his posture, the nervous tremble in Katherine’s fingers, the way the blood drained slowly from her face… He watched dispassionately as Katherine laid her hands flat on the table, fingers splayed wide, trying to brace herself against the news. He dimly registered the faint giggles of Jack’s small children echoing down the hall. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.  _That’s odd_ , he mused; how could he feel his heart? He wasn’t down there with his heart, was he? He was here, he was safe up here on the ceiling, and Jack…

He jolted back into himself and sank into the chair opposite Katherine, limbs numb. “We’ll get him back,” he said fiercely, reaching across to grasp her hands in his. “We’ll find him.”

She turned her head to the kitchen counter, her eyes blank. “I have to finish making dinner,” she said, her voice queer. “It’s nearly dinnertime. Jack’s bringing home cold cuts so the children can have meat with their bread. I have to finish everything else before he gets here.” 

“Katherine,” Davey said, squeezing her fingers. “Jack’s not coming home tonight.” 

“You don’t know that!” She snapped, jerking her hands away from him. “Thank you for bringing Eleanor home, David. I believe Miriam is in the nursery. You should get her home so she doesn’t miss her own dinner.” 

“Katherine, you shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Davey said, rising slowly from his seat. “Do you want me to stay? Do you want me to call your mother? Or maybe Edie? Connie? Charlie or Rosie, perhaps?” 

“No!” she said harshly, balling her hands into fists before catching herself and uncurling them to smooth down her apron. “No, Davey. But thank you,” she said, her voice measured. “I’ll be fine. The children will be fine. Jack is coming home tonight, the way he always does, and you should go home, too.” She began herding him towards the hallway, and he went, albeit reluctantly. “I’m glad you had a nice time today,” she said, her voice falsely cheerful. “How nice that you could spend time out with Jack and the girls. I’m sure he’d love to do it again sometime soon.” She smiled and turned her head to call down the hallway. “Miriam? Time to go!” 

Whines and cries wafted from the nursery, but Katherine was having none of it. She went and got Miriam, lifting her from Eleanor’s lap and ignoring Theo’s tears as she carried his favorite cousin out of the room.

“Katherine—” Davey tried again, taking Miriam from her arms.

“Thank you, David,” Katherine said firmly. “We’ll be in touch.”

“But—”

“I don’t want anyone else here right now,” she said, and her voice cracked just enough for him to realize that she was fully aware of what was going on, and her heart was splintering, and she was fighting tooth and nail not to fall apart in front of her children.

He nodded and stepped out into the hallway. “We’ll find him,” he repeated. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes briefly and met his eyes for the first time since he’d finished telling her what had happened. “Perhaps you can accompany me to the precinct tomorrow before work.” 

“Of course,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said, turning back to her children even as she locked the door in Davey’s face.

He stared at the door for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

“ _Mi-am essen_?” 

He nodded. “ _Yo, Mirele. Bald_.” Okay. He could do this. He’d feed his child, he’d send word to Sniper and Tommy Boy and have them stand watch outside the apartment, and then he’d get Jack home. He would. And... and everything would be okay.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yiddish:
> 
> Geyn = to go, to walk
> 
> Nisht yest, zissele. Mir eilen zich. = Not now, sweetie. We're in a hurry.
> 
> Essen = to eat (also 'food')
> 
> Yo, Mirele. Bald. = Yes, Mirele (pet name for Miriam). Soon.
> 
> *
> 
> Wow, this was an unusually long break between updates for me (and I haven't even responded to comments on the last chapter yet, either, aaaaa), but I have been super busy with packing, moving, prepping for a new job, and, oh, right, this little thing called DEFENDING MY DISSERTATION!!!! :D :D :D I HAVE A PHD NOW!!!!! super excited. :3 Grad school sucks, and now I'm DONE! It feels good. Anyway. That had nothing to do with the story, but I'm sharing nevertheless. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we check in on Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor violence, some cursing, brief drug reference, kidnapping situation, references to sex and prostitution

The sounds came back first, a low muttering that made Jack try to fall back asleep. He felt terrible, why couldn’t whoever was in the stairwell just be quiet, if they were waking him up then they might wake the children, too, and then Theo would be fussy until naptime, and that would put Nicky out of sorts, and Ellie would fret about her babies being unhappy, and if Ellie wasn’t happy then no one was happy…

Then he began registering light again, and he realized that it was far too bright to be early morning. Instincts from long ago kept him quiet, even as he became more and more alert. He did his best to keep his breathing even, his face still, his body limp; he didn’t want whoever else was in the room to know he was conscious. The fact that he was awake was perhaps the one thing he knew that his captors—captor?—didn’t, and he wanted to keep that advantage for as long as possible. Maybe they’d let something slip, maybe they’d drop a name, maybe they’d tell him a who or a where or a why that could help him negotiate or escape or at least pretend that he had a plan for handling this nightmare. 

Those hopes were quickly dashed, however, when the muttering grew closer and someone tossed a glass of water in his face. Jack jerked upright, spluttering, and the someone laughed.

“Thought that might get ya up,” a raspy voice said.

Jack tried to surge forward in anger, but he quickly realized that he wasn’t able to move. His eyes went wide as he bent his head to take in the ropes tying his ankles to the front legs of the wooden chair. Breathing rapidly, he tugged at his arms and felt the itch of rope binding his wrists together behind his back. Jack swallowed hard, unable to speak for the gag in his mouth, and tried to push back the tidal wave of fear that he felt rising from the pit of his stomach and swirling into his mind. 

“It’s been a long time, huh, Kelly?”

Jack stayed silent and stared at the floor.

Apparently, this was the wrong move (or maybe, as Jack suspected, the problem was that there were no right moves), because the man snarled and cuffed Jack on the ear. “Look at me when I’m talkin’ ta ya, filthy scum!”

Jack raised his head, eyes watering from the hit, and locked eyes with the man responsible for his kidnapping. _No, not for my kidnapping—for my abduction_ , Jack thought wildly. _I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a full-grown man with a family an’ a job an’ people who are gonna miss me an’ come lookin’ for me. And either they’ll come for me, or I’ll fight my way back to them. For sure. As… as long as he doesn’t…_ **No,** _Jack_. _Don’t think that. You’ll see them all again. Ace, the kids, Charlie, Rosie, Davey, Chaya, Race… all of them. You just have to hang on until it happens. Keep this guy happy until you get out. Because you’re getting out—that’s a given. Don’t doubt that for a second, Jackie-Boy. Just hold on._

“Well?” The man asked, standing spread-eagle in front of Jack, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Surprised?”

Jack nodded obediently, but again, that seemed to be the wrong answer. The man’s face darkened with rage as he roared at Jack and socked him again. “Ya don’t know who I am! I’s been waitin’ years ta get my revenge on you, an’ ya can’t even _pretend_ ta rec’nize me?” The man stalked away to the stone lintel—Jack realized that they must be underground, because this place was built like a cellar and smelled like one, too—and braced his hands on either side of the door frame. “You’s gonna remember me eventually,” he growled, facing away from Jack, whose ears were still ringing so loudly that he found it hard to understand the man’s words. “And when ya do….” He laughed, and Jack bowed his head so that the man wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing the useless fury in Jack’s eyes. 

“Uh uh, Kelly,” the man said, grabbing Jack’s chin and forcing his head upwards. “I’s still talkin’.” He smacked Jack again, presumably to reinforce the earlier lesson, and grinned. “You ruined my life, you rat,” he mused, running a finger along the old scar on Jack’s chin. “An’ now you’s gonna make my fortune.” 

Jack couldn’t stop his eyebrows from drawing together ever so slightly in response to this, and the man patted Jack’s cheek so softly that Jack flinched, afraid it was the prelude to a punch. “I been keepin’ tabs on ya, you see?” The man said, dropping his hand and strolling to the other side of the room. “An’ soon’s ya went an’ married Joseph Pulitzer’s gal, well, I knew I had it made.”

Jack pulled his eyebrows together a little further, and the man winked. “I knows what you’s thinkin’—ya got hitched years an’ years ago, so why’s it just now bitin’ ya in the ass?” He crouched in front of Jack and leered up into Jack’s face, his foul breath making Jack’s stomach lurch. “Well, I had to wait until the money was a sure thing, didn’t I?”

Jack wanted to answer the rhetorical question just to annoy the man, but the gag was tied almost too tight for him to swallow, let alone vocalize something recognizable.   

“ _Pulitzer_ was the one with the real money, not your whore,” the man went on, “An’ I knew Pulitzer wouldn’t pay a dime ta get _you_ back… No, there weren’t no way a man like him would pay a ransom f’r a flea-ridden, rabble-rousin’, snot-nosed whelp like you.” He laughed at his own clever insults and patted Jack’s thigh. “The redhead, though… I knew the redhead would pay as much as it took. If it meant gettin’ you back? She’d pay ev’rything and then some.” Jack strained forward again, the muscles in his neck cording to absolutely no effect.

The man nodded thoughtfully. “You still cares about her, huh? That’s nice.” He scratched at a spot on his arm— _fleas_ , Jack thought—as the man continued. “That’s real nice. I knew I was runnin’ a risk, waitin’ so long ta bring ya down here once the old man kicked it an' your gal came inta her money... I mean, a guy like you with a gal like that, Kelly?” He snorted. “I didn’t figure you could keep her more’n a year or two. ‘Specially on account of how you was always movin’ from one gal ta the next, either drivin’ ‘em away or ditchin’ ‘em as quick as ya found ‘em.”

He pursed his lips and looked Jack up and down. “You was flightier’n a squirrel on coke when I knew ya, Kelly, but I guess that’s changed…” The man curled his lip, and Jack watched it snag slightly on a prominent canine tooth. “Lucky f’r me, too, seein’ as I _had_ ta wait—I was in the pen f’r a good while there.” He tilted his head. “You ever done a stint inside, Kelly? In the r _eal_ clink, mind, not in Snyder’s pussy version.”

Jack just glared, but when the man drew his arm back to throw a punch, Jack hastily shook his head.

“Huh,” the man said thoughtfully. “I guess that gal straightened you out.”

 _As if I don’t know that,_ Jack thought. 

“Well, when I got out I thought surely I’d missed my chance, an’ once I saw your snotty brats runnin’ around an’ how old your biddy has gotten, well, I _knew_ I’d missed my chance, ‘cause no way you’d still be with a hag like that, but…” He shook his head and laughed. “Guess we’s still pretty similar, you an’ me. We always stick around f'r money.” He winked at Jack and added, “ ‘Sides, I bet you’s got a pretty young thing or two on the side, yeah? Ain’t no way you’s still screwin’ the missus, not when ya could buy yourself somethin’ better.”

Jack bit down on the gag and growled, and the man smirked. “Feisty as ever, I see. Well. I ain’t gonna ask you for a recommendation or nothin’, so don’t worry. I finds my own entertainment these days. An’ right now you’s entertainin’ me plenty well, so why cut the fun short?” His smile spread as he leaned in to ruffle Jack’s hair. “So here’s what I’m thinkin’, Jack. Let’s wait a week ‘fore we lets your gal know that you’s run off ta play with me, yeah?”

He patted bruised Jack’s cheek, the resultant pain causing Jack to suck air in through his nostrils. “We’s gonna have a grand time, you an’ me. We c’n catch up, spend some quality time t’gether, build the suspense at home…” He straightened up and chucked Jack roughly under the chin. “A week of fun, an’ then we’s gonna send Katherine a ransom letter. See if she cares about ya as much as she used ta.”

He started to leave the room, taking the flickering oil lamp with him, but he paused in the doorway. “An’ you better pray she does, Kelly, ‘cause if I don’t get my money?” He turned his head back to Jack and, his voice utterly calm, said: “I’ll kill ya.”

The man really did leave then, his exit casting the room into near-total darkness. There must have been a lamp or a candle in the hallway outside the basement door, because Jack could see shadows playing on the wall and the outline of his legs, tied uselessly in front of him, but nothing else. No windows to break and crawl through, no back doors to slip out of, no fire escape to lead him away to freedom. And as he'd seen moments before, before the man took the lamp and cast Jack into the gloom, exits like that simply didn't exist in this hellhole of a basement. He was well and truly stuck. Not that he’d be able to get out of these restraints anyway, but still, it would have been nice to have a reason to try. 

 _What are you thinking, you big dummy?!_ He scolded himself. _You have_ **thousands** _of reasons to try! You have a family! You have the most beautiful wife in the world! You have three wonderful children and a fourth on the way! You have to get home, idiot. Figure this out. And figure it out fast—there is no way in hell you’re leaving Katherine and the kids alone for a week. A_ **week**... He struggled with the ties on his wrists and tried not to think of Katherine sleeping alone in their bed, of Eleanor asking unanswerable questions about where he was, of Nicky standing futilely by the door to welcome him home, of Theo crying when Jack wasn't there to sing to him at bedtime. A full week of that, a full week of his family in turmoil... He gave himself a mental kick.  _No. That won't happen. No way._

Jack shook his head and grunted at himself. He hoped Eleanor had told Davey what happened, he hoped Davey would quickly realize that something was wrong, he hoped Katherine would… He released a choked cry and dropped his head down to his sternum. He hoped Katherine would stay put. He hoped she would stay safe. He hoped she would shield the children and let a professional detective do the sleuthing. Because Jack might not remember this criminal who seemed to know him so well, but he could tell the man meant business.  

Jack thrashed and tried desperately to snap his restraints, shaking the chair back and forth and worsening the rope burn on his wrists. It didn’t take long for him to shake the chair so hard that it toppled over, sending him crashing to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. He yelled at the pain that shot through his ribs and right shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall, and cursed his body for being breakable. For being mortal. For being bound.

 _I’m coming home, macushla,_ he thought to himself, trying to ignore the darkness and the hurt and the fear that were teasing at his mind and wrapping around his heart. _Don’t worry, my love. Be brave. Be brave, and be smart, and I’ll be home soon. I’ll find a way back to you, I promise._ He tried to repeat the promise around his gag, just to break the silence, but he could barely move his jaw. 

Seized with a sudden, overwhelming fury at his complete impotence, Jack growled and slammed his head against the floor. He cursed himself as a flash of white exploded in his skull and bit back a moan. _You’re an idiot, Jack. A complete and utter idiot._

Jack was well aware that he had a dangerous penchant for impulsivity. Charlie had done his best to help Jack fight that particular demon when they were kids, and then Katherine and Davey had joined the cause, but no one had ever managed to beat it out of him. _Lord knows Snyder tried_ , he thought with a smirk, _But the lesson never took._  Nowadays Jack was mostly able to both think _and_ look before he leaped, but… Well, what could he say? Sometimes his emotions still got the better of him. Besides, he wasn’t at his best right now, that was for sure, and he needed a way to have some control over the situation, and this… this had seemed like something concrete. Dumb, but concrete. Jack was livid that someone had immobilized him, so he’d seized on the one movement he could still use to express his anger. He needed some control back, and to hell with the consequences.

 _To hell with the structural integrity of my skull, more's like_ , he thought, rolling his eyes. Leave it to him to hurt himself worse than his kidnapper had. He closed his eyes and prayed for help. Prayed for this to end. Prayed for a way out. _Come on, Jack_ , he thought, lying on the cold floor and hearing his heart thump placidly in his chest _. You can do this. You_ **can.** _Find a way home. Do it._ He didn’t realize he was falling asleep until unconsciousness had mostly pulled him under, and by then he was too weary to resist. He sighed, feeling his breath rasp over a cut on the inside of his cheek, and gave himself over to dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on this one! I did post 2 other short things in the interim, but yeah, taking a month off in the middle of a story isn't really my style; when I checked the 'last updated' date on this I was shocked. Oops. It's been an incredibly busy month, though, so. Hopefully the next one won't take as long to post, although no promises.
> 
> Random fact: The 2 paragraphs that start this chapter are the first two paragraphs I wrote for this story.
> 
> Any new theories from you lovely readers? <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we return to the home front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings. Just lots of sad Kellys and a curse word or two.

Katherine woke at five in the morning, Eleanor burrowed firmly into her side and Theo pressed up against her back. She felt sick to her stomach as soon as she drifted back into consciousness, but it took her a moment to remember why. Theo smacked his lips and wiggled slightly, and then it hit Katherine like a thunderbolt. That was Theo on the left side of the bed, not Jack.

_Jack._

Katherine squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered the events of the previous evening and tried not to cry. Her body felt heavy, and a headache was already pounding at her temples due to lack of sleep. Katherine eased up out of the bed, trying not to wake her three little ones as she moved to get dressed. Normally they all slept in the nursery, although Theo would often wind up in his parents’ bed by morning, but getting the children to bed last night had been such a trial that she’d finally allowed them to sleep with her. The weight of three small bodies hadn’t made up for the wrongness of not having Jack wrapped around her, nuzzling into her neck or tangling his legs with hers or snoring softly into her hair, but it had helped. 

She pressed a finger against her right eye and tried to massage away the soreness. The city would be awake soon enough, but until it was, she’d draw up her own plan of how to find Jack. Because she’d find him. She would. She would find him, or…

Her heart stopped. All three of her children had fallen asleep with her, but only two remained. _Where was Nicky?_

Katherine’s legs began to shake as she looked at the bed, then raced to the nursery, then ran to the door, fully intending to dash out into the street in her nightgown and find whatever demon was stalking her family, stealing her husband and then her son and—she let out a sob of relief and dropped to her knees in front of the door, lifting a sleeping Nicholas up off of the floor and cradling him in her arms. 

“Mommy?” He murmured, beginning to wake up.

“Oh, _Nicky!_ Baby, sweetheart,” she cried, clutching him to her chest, “What happened? Why were you lying on the floor?”

“Daddy home?” he asked, yawning into her shoulder. “Nicky say hiya Daddy?”

Katherine buried her face in his neck and breathed in the smell of her oldest son, ignoring the tickle of his soft, barely wavy hair against her forehead. “No, cookie, he’s not home yet…” She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “But that’s so sweet of you.” She kissed the top of his head and smoothed his hair. “I know how much Daddy loves that you’re always here to greet him when he comes home.” She pushed herself into a standing position and picked Nicky up, carrying him back to the nursery. “It’s time to get some sleep in your bed now, though, Nicky; it’s not comfy there on the floor, and you don’t want to be tired all day.”

Nicky started to whimper in protest, and Katherine patted his back as she laid him down in his crib. He was nearly old enough for a real bed, but they didn’t have the space for that in this one small room, not with Eleanor’s bed and Theo’s crib and the bookshelves and the mountain of stuffed toys and the overstuffed dressers, and then there was the new little one on the way now, too, and _where was Jack_ … Katherine laid a hand on her stomach and took a deep breath. _One thing at a time_ , she reminded herself, and focused on calming Nicholas so that he would get a few hours of sleep in a bed instead of on the floor. “I’ll tell you when Daddy comes home, Bug,” she promised. “You won’t miss it, darling. I’ll make sure you’re right there to say hello as soon as he walks through that door.” 

Nicholas’ eyes were already fluttering shut, his anxiety over his father unable to withstand the need for sleep, but he managed to nod in agreement as he stuck his thumb in his mouth and drifted off again.

Katherine shut the door to the nursery and sagged into the living room, collapsing gracelessly onto the couch. 

“Mrrp!” 

Mitzi, the family’s fluffy black cat, hopped into Katherine’s lap, circled a few times, and settled down, nestling her head between Katherine’s knees. Katherine was grateful for the grounding weight of the animal in her lap, but it also made her even sadder; petting Mitzi just made her think of Jack. He was the one who’d found a battered little waif of a kitten in the alley by their apartment and then insisted that they keep it. He was the one who’d gone and bought a fancy pillow especially for the cat, saying that she needed a bed of her own. (It remained unused.) He was the one who held entire conversations with the cat whenever he thought he was home alone.

And although Mitzi was most attached to Ellie now, Jack was definitely her second favorite. She spent her nights draped across Jack’s legs, she curled up in his lap when he was drawing, and every afternoon she hopped up onto the windowsill and watched for Jack in the crowded streets.

“You didn’t see him yesterday, though, did you, Mitzi,” Katherine said, stroking the cat’s inky black fur. “But maybe… maybe you’ll see him today. I hope.” She felt a stabbing pain in her chest and gave a small gasp that scared Mitzi off of her lap. The pain grew sharper and then receded, leaving her breathless. “I can’t be sick, not now,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t have time for this.” She gave herself a mental kick and marched over to her desk, a sturdy oak affair with more drawers than a knicker store, pressing a hand against her heart as she bent to pull out a fresh notebook and a sharpened pencil.

First she drew up a list of people to contact. Reporters, friends of her father’s, old friends of Jack’s, contacts she’d made while working on stories… anyone and everyone who might possibly be able to help her find her husband. When she finished the list, she found herself unable to move. There were so many things she should do next, so many steps to take, so many thoughts whirling through her head, and all she wanted to do was talk them out with Jack, to figure out where to go from here, to ask her husband how on earth she was supposed to handle this alone, and…

She hated crying, she _hated_ it, she was pretty sure that in times of stress Jack cried more than she did because he didn’t know how to express his thoughts but she _did_ , she always had words for her feelings, she always had words and phrases and a finger on the pulse of her emotions and someone to tell everything to and now—now she _didn’t_ , and how was she supposed to do this, how the hell could she get through this without him, she needed her husband, she needed her best friend, she needed her Jack, she _needed_ him, and—she burst into tears.

At six her youngest came into the room, pulled himself up onto the couch, and patted her breast. She took a shuddering breath and heaved him into her lap to start nursing him, unable to tell him good morning or stop her tears from falling onto his baby-soft hair. “Oh, Theo,” she whispered after a while, shifting him to the other side, “I can’t do this.”

* 

“We need to draw up a list of people who might have wanted to hurt Jack,” Davey said, flipping his legal pad over to a new page.

“There’s no way we can do that,” Katherine said, despairing. “He lampoons the rich and powerful for a living—there’s any number of people who might want him gone!”

“We should still try, though,” Davey insisted. “It might help the police, and we need to make things as easy for them as possible.”

“We should include everyone who wants to hurt Katherine, too,” Charlie pointed out. 

“Or anyone who had a grudge against Katherine’s father,” Chaya added. 

“Or anyone who has a head and breathes,” Katherine said, slamming her hands on the table. “This is pointless!”

“I’m going to do it anyway,” Davey said stubbornly.

“Or anyone who’s mad at Jack for the strike,” Charlie mused, “Or maybe someone found out about what he did in Five Points, or it could be someone who got kickbacks from the Refuge, or maybe someone from Jack’s street days, or…” 

“We get the point, thanks,” Davey said, teeth clenched. “Just let me write the damn list!”

Katherine made a frustrated noise. “Why?”  

“Because I don’t know what else I can do, and I have to do _something!”_ Davey snapped. "Because it’s my fault he’s gone!" He scoffed as his friends' jaws dropped. "Oh, don't give me that; I know you’re all thinking it. And it's true, too. If I’d just brought him into the store with me or run faster to find him or told Miriam to wait until we got home or…”

“No,” Chaya said firmly, placing her hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“You’re my wife," Davey said angrily. "Of course you think—”

“She’s right,” Katherine said, pushing her chair back and standing up. “It’s not your fault. If it hadn’t happened yesterday, it would’ve happened today, or tomorrow, or…” she felt her stomach lurch with morning sickness and ran from the room.

* 

“I’m paying for this, Katherine,” Kate Pulitzer said firmly, writing out a check and handing it to the private investigator that Katherine had picked. “And that’s final.”

Katherine tried not to start crying again, she really did, but she was so overwhelmed by gratefulness and helplessness and desperation and pregnancy that she pulled out a handkerchief and sobbed. 

*

Katherine jerked awake, her subconscious having realized that something wasn’t right. At the same moment that she remembered Jack was still gone, she realized that the mattress was soaking wet. She sighed and dragged herself out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom for soap and rags to clean off herself and Eleanor in what had become a nightly routine. She really ought to buy another set of linens; she didn’t have the time to keep doing laundry every other day.

*

Katherine came home after another day of nothing, another day of trying to work and let the investigator do his job and hoping for news. Her heart fell as she slotted the key into the lock and heard the answering pitter patter of little feet racing down the hallway. She looked down as she opened the door and tried to smile at Nicky, but watching the expression on his face shift from hope to despair made faked happiness impossible.

“Come here, Bug,” she said, opening her arms wide and letting Nicky fall into them, his sobs muffled in her chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

*

“What do you mean, you’ve got nothing?” Katherine had been able to keep her voice even up to now in deference to Theo’s presence on her lap, his clinginess yet another visible indicator of how fragile he’d been —how fragile they'd all been— these last six days, but this was too much. “I need him back _now!_ Why haven’t you found him!?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kelly,” the private detective said, “But these things take time. Normally I wouldn’t even provide an update until the end of the first week of the investigation to avoid exactly this type of conversation,” he added, trying to temper the frustration in his voice. “I’m making an exception only because our mutual friend Patrick—Mr. Cortés—insisted.”

“I know,” she said, chastened by the man’s words and Theo’s whimpers. “I apologize.”

“Well, I do understand your concern,” he said, mollified. “But I’m doing the best I can for your husband. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick. “I… I’ll let you go now, I…” She trailed off, distracted by Theo’s cries and her own fear.

“I'll be in touch as soon as I have anything to report,” the man assured her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Kelly.”

She nodded her goodbyes and returned to the nursery, where Rosie had been trying to occupy Nicholas and Eleanor, mostly to no avail. As soon as she opened the door to the children’s room, Nicholas raced out and down the hallway. Katherine knew even without looking that he’d gone to sit by the front door; he’d been spending as much time as possible there lately, certain that the next person who entered would be Jack.

Eleanor raced to Katherine’s side with just as much urgency, throwing her little arms around her mother’s skirts. “Mommy! When is Daddy coming home from work?” 

“I don’t know, muffin,” Katherine said, placing her free hand atop Ellie’s head and stroking her daughter’s curly hair. “He’s very busy right now. There’s… there’s a lot he has to do at work right now.” 

“But I _miss_ him!”

“I know, darling,” Katherine said, her anguished eyes meeting Rosie’s. “But he’ll be home as soon as he can. I promise.”

Ellie sank to the floor and flopped backwards onto the carpet, tears starting to leak from her eyes. “I’m hungry. I’m tired. I want Mitzi,” she wailed. “And make Gamma go home!”

“Grandma’s been very helpful,” Katherine objected. “She’s out buying us dinner right now. And besides, I thought you liked Grandma?”

“I _do!”_ Eleanor rolled over onto her stomach and pummeled the floor with her fists. “But I want Daddy!”

“Grandma leaving won't make Daddy come back,” Katherine cautioned, raising her eyebrows and handing a crying Theodore off to Rosie.

 _“Mommy,"_ Ellie said, rolling her eyes. "Gamma's here because Daddy's gone. Make her leave so Daddy can come back!”

“Oh, Eleanor,” Katherine said, sinking down next to her daughter and starting to rub her back. “It doesn’t work like that,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I wish it did, but... it doesn't. We just have to be patient.”

“I miss him,” Eleanor sobbed, her voice muffled by the carpet.

“Me, too, baby,” Katherine said, lying next to Ellie and pulling her little girl in close. “Have you been praying for him to come home soon?” 

Eleanor nodded, wedging her head into Katherine’s armpit.

“Do you want to pray again with me right now?” 

Ellie nodded again. “You start.”

“Dear Heavenly Father,” Katherine began, trying to keep her voice from trembling and scaring her daughter even more. “You know where…” She readjusted. “You know when Daddy will come home. You know how much we want him here with us.” Ellie squeaked in agreement. “So please, God, we pray—please bring him home soon. Please.” Katherine fell silent, thinking of Jack and what could possibly have happened to him, if he was even still alive, if she would ever see him again…

“In Jesus’ name, amen,” Ellie piped up, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Don’t cry, Mommy,” she added, wiping tears away from Katherine’s cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Katherine opened her eyes and pressed a hand to her face. She hadn’t even known she was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy have I been busy. Hope you enjoyed, no idea when I'll get to this next!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Blood, violence, curse words

Jack had to hand it to this guy; he was extremely good at keeping Jack on edge. There was no predictability to the man’s moods, the time or number of his appearances, the kind of food Jack was given or the amount he was allowed to finish before the man snatched it away again… Really, the fella could write a how-to manual on this stuff, it was just awful, Jack hadn’t felt this keyed up since… he snapped his eyes open and looked towards the empty door.

“ _Chambers,”_ he breathed in disbelief. “It’s Chambers.”

Jack felt as if he’d been doused with ice water and almost wished that the gag was back in his mouth; maybe it would’ve stopped his teeth from starting to chatter. After a short internal struggle—was it better to give into his memories or to hold them at bay?—he gritted his teeth and thought back nearly twenty years, back to when he was just a boy, a boy who’d barely been a child, a boy who’d thought he was a man…

_“Kelly! I toldja I wanted these boots shined up—is ya deaf ‘s well ‘s dumb? Lookit the muck on ‘em! Get back here, ya little rat! Ohhh no, runnin’ ain’t gonna save ya, not t’day…”_

_Jack skidded around the corner and dashed into a side street, doubling back to the Lodging House, hoping that today wouldn’t be the day Chambers caught on to his ruse. He was on borrowed time, he knew—Chambers was nowhere near as smart as Jack, but he also wasn’t an idiot. It was only a matter of time until he figured out that even though Jack spent a lot of time running, Jack never ran away. He wanted to, sure—he dreamed of running until he ran out of land—but even as he willed himself to fly, to flee, to loose his ties to this stinking city and escape Chambers and poverty and hunger forever, he didn’t. He couldn’t. Jack Kelly didn’t run away; Jack Kelly ran in circles._

_He cast a look over his shoulder to see if Chambers was in view, sighing in relief when there was no sign of the older boy. Jack took a running leap and snagged the ladder of the lowest platform on the fire escape, his weight pulling the ladder down so he could clamber up it. He could’ve entered the front door of the Lodging House, he knew, but he didn’t want the other boys to have to lie about having seen him when Chambers came back, surly and sniffing for a fight._

_“Heya Jack,” a deep voice said as Jack poked his head up over the edge of the top floor’s fire escape. “Ev’rythin’ alright?”_

_“Yeah,” Jack said, panting. “Hunky dory, Tiny.”_

_“Liar,” the other boy said, leaning against the railing and chuckling. “Didja tweak Chambers again?”_

_Jack made a noncommittal noise and shrugged._

_“Alright,” Tiny said, sitting down at the edge of the fire escape and dangling his long legs off the side. He patted the spot next to him and looked up at Jack. “C’mere, kid.”_

_Jack hauled himself up onto the platform and scrambled into place._

_“Got some news,” Tiny rumbled, his voice echoing through his broad chest._

_“Why doncha tell me somethin’ I don’t know, huh?” Jack said impishly. “We’s newsies, Tiny—newsies always got news.”_

_Tiny laughed and shoved Jack playfully, his large hand dwarfing Jack’s scrawny shoulder. “Idiot.”_

_“Numbskull.”_

_“Peabrain.”_

_“Clodpole.”_

_“I’m leavin’, kid,” Tiny said abruptly, ending the game. “I moves out t’morrow.”_

_“What?” Jack felt his stomach clench._

_“I gots a fact’ry job now. Gonna go make me a man’s salary, Cowboy.”_

_“But… but you’s our leader, Tiny!” Jack protested. “Ya can’t just leave!”_

_“I’s gotta, kid,” Tiny said. “You’s seen how I ain’t sellin’ ‘s many papes as I used to. It’s ‘cause ‘m too old f’r this gig. ‘M taller’n mosta the men on the street nowadays, I gots me this 5 o’clock shadow, I sounds like a dockworker…”_

_“But…”_

_“Ain’t no use, Jackie-Boy,” Tiny said, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders and pulling him in tight. “I’ve gone an’ aged out.”_

_“Younger sells more papes,” Jack said miserably, repeating wisdom Tiny had taught him when he was just starting out as a newsie._

_Tiny nodded and leaned his head atop Jack’s. “You’s gonna be okay, though.”_

_“Ya don’t know that!” Jack snapped, pulling away from his friend. “Ya ain’t no magic man what c’n see the future, Tiny, so don’t tell me what I is or isn’t gonna be, not when you’s leavin’ me, you’s just_ leavin’ _, what the_ hell _, Tiny, ya don’t get ta say nothin’ ta me no more, you’s pullin’ up sticks an’ runnin’ off just like Jeffy did, an’ Pickles, an’—” His voice broke, and he stormed to the opposite side of the fire escape, gripping the cool metal railing and willing himself not to cry._

_He jerked sideways when Tiny came up behind him and laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Hey now, shortstop—don’t be mad at me, okay? I gots ta get a job what c’n feed me, ya know? An’ what c’n feed Mary Leigh, too.”_

_“I hates Mary Leigh,” Jack muttered, kicking one of the support posts on the fire escape._

_Tiny sighed and rubbed Jack’s back. “I know, Jackie. I do. You’s gonna understand someday, though. You'll find yaself a real peach of a gal, prob’ly when ya ain’t even lookin’, an’ then… Then you’ll understand why I gotta go. Why bein’ a newsie ain’t enough no more.”_

‘You aren’t enough anymore’ _is what Jack heard, the words slamming against his head like marbles caroming off a brick wall. “Sure, Tiny. Whatever,” Jack said, turning his head away. “Just leave already, okay?”_

_“I gots ta make you head o’ the borough first,” Tiny replied. “Gotta do it up official so’s the boys don’t get no ideas inta they heads. A borough big ‘s Manhattan needs some order, an’ I knows I c’n trust ya ta make sure it all runs smooth.”_

"Me?"  _Jack whipped his head sideways to stare wide-eyed at Tiny._

_The taller newsie rolled his eyes. “I’s been groomin’ ya f’r years, kid. Ev’ryone knows it.”_

“ **I** _didn’t know it!” Jack protested, white-knuckling the railing._

_“You—?! Geez Louise, Jack,” Tiny said, exasperated. “You’s thicker’n molasses sometimes, you know that?”_

_“Yeah, I do! So don’t make me no leader!”_

_“You’s_ already _a leader,” Tiny told him. “You’s been my second for ages.”_

 _“I’s been your_ friend, _that’s all,” Jack said desperately, wanting to stave off the moment of responsibility that was surely just about to come._

_“You’s been more’n that f’r a while now, Jack,” Tiny said, gripping Jack’s shoulder in an iron grip. “You’s the only fella here what c’n run Manhattan the way it oughta be run—don’t lookit me like that, you knows it’s true—an’ now I wants ta make it official. We clear?”_

_“But—”_

_“Holy hell, Jack, willya stop it already?! You knows borough business ‘s well ‘s I do—I made sure o’ that—but the kicker is somethin’ ya did all on your own: The fellas like ya_ **an’** _respect ya. ‘S a rare combination, kid, an’ not somethin’ ya c’n throw away just ‘cause you’s scared.”_

_“I ain’t scared!” Jack growled, his face dark._

_“Then prove it,” Tiny said calmly. “Come downstairs with me so I c’n tell the fellas you’s the new head o’ Manhattan.”_

_“Shit, Tiny,” Jack whispered. “Okay.”_

_*_

_Jack stared out at the sea of newsies in front of him, well aware that he was as pale as a ghost. All of the Lodging House boys were here, every single one of them, and Jack thought he might puke. “Hey, Tiny?” He whispered._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Does we gotta do this again t’morrow mornin’ f’r the newsies what don’t sleep here?”_

_“You’s gonna be a great borough leader, Jack,” Tiny said kindly, giving Jack a reassuring pat on the back. “Lookit ya—thinkin’ about alla your kids, not just the ones you c’n see.”_

_“That don’t answer my question,” Jack muttered, but he knew it did. Get ready for a repeat performance tomorrow, bucko._

_Jack scuffed his worn boots against the ground and grimaced at the prospect of doing this twice. Sure, it was a huge honor, and blah blah blah, but… he hated a scene. He was fine with people talking him up behind his back—the bigger his rep, the less likely people were to mess him around—but singing his praises when he was right there? No thanks. He wasn’t anything special._

_He couldn’t escape in the middle of Tiny’s speech, though—what kind of message would that send to the boys? ‘You can’t trust me, I’ll split when things get uncomfortable, and I care about my comfort more than I care about what you need…’ No way was he telling his boys that. His heart flipped when he realized what he’d done_ —‘his boys. _’ He’d called them his boys, and he’d done it without a second thought._

 _He bit his lip as Tiny continued to talk, scanning the faces in front of him. Soon they really would be his, like it or not, and he wasn’t sure he was ready, but… Well, he already thought of them as them as his, and that had to mean something, right? Jack mentally flipped through the last twelve months and blinked as it dawned on him that Tiny really_ had _been preparing him for this new role. The changes had been so gradual that Jack hadn’t even noticed, but now that he knew what to look for, he saw how Tiny had started sharing borough business with Jack, asking for his thoughts, taking Jack’s input, letting him handle smaller disputes, treating him less like an underfed fourteen-year-old and more like a partner…_

_Jack stood a little straighter and broadened his stance. He might not be the best borough leader in the city, at least not yet, but he knew the ins and outs of Lower Manhattan, he knew the quirks and worries of his newsies, and he knew how to move papes faster than anyone else between here and the Hudson. Maybe he’d be good at this, after all._

_“… like to say a few words, Jack?” Tiny concluded, looking down with a fond smile._

_Jack rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I… Thanks, Tiny, I…” He brushed his nose and looked from boy to boy, seeing the anticipation and excitement and uncertainty on their faces. “I know you's all really gonna miss Tiny. I is, too. I’s gonna be honest with you fellas—I ain’t never done somethin’ like this before, an’ I ain’t much of a one f’r speechifying, but… I wanna do right by ya. Newsyin’ ain’t easy, an’ I wantcha ta know I’s always gonna have your back. I… I wantcha ta know whatever ya needs, I’m in ya corner. I don’t wanna boss ya around, I don’t wanna run the show—I just wants ta keep ya safe an’ fed an’ help ya sell ‘s many papes as ya damn well can.”_

_He swallowed, seeing the intensity on Finch’s face, the anger on Chambers’, the hopefulness on Crutchie’s. “I knows I ain’t the oldest here, an’ I ain’t the biggest, an’ I ain’t the smartest, but what I do got goin’ for me is that I cares about each an’ ev’ry one of ya, an’ I’s gonna do ev’rythin’ I can ta make sure this city don’t eat ya up an’ spit ya out. If… if you’ll let me. ‘Cause I think you boys oughta get a say in this.”_

_Tiny raised an eyebrow at this, but Jack barreled on. “So here’s how it’s gonna go. I’s gonna leave the room right now, an’ Tiny’s gonna ask ya if ya wants me ta be the new borough leader or not, an’ you’s gotta be a hunnerd percent honest with him, yeah? ‘Cause if ya don’t want me in charge, that’s okay. You needs ta have someone in charge what you trusts an’ respects, an’ if that ain’t me? That’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m a tough fella, I c’n take it. Promise. So take a minute, think it over, an’ cast your vote.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his cap before looking up at Tiny. “Okay. Come get me when it’s over?”_

_“Yeah,” Tiny said, shooting Jack an odd look. Jack shoved it aside—he didn’t want to think about whether Tiny hated him for bucking tradition, admired Jack’s gesture, or thought he was just plain dumb. If Jack was going to lead Manhattan, he had to do it his way, right from the get-go, and it wouldn’t sit right to run the borough without the support of his boys._

_Jack slipped out the front door and leaned against the railing of the steps up to the Lodging House. The moon hung low and bright in the sky, and it looked as if someone had lopped the end of it off to serve up in a soup. His stomach rumbled, and he fished around in his pocket for a heel of stale bread he’d bought for a penny that afternoon. He chewed slowly, watching the clouds float by, blocking the moon and then revealing it again. Would he have time for moments like this when he was borough leader? Would he be able to stand silently and think about everything and nothing when the weight of Manhattan was on his shoulders?_

There’s still time to run _, said a small voice in his head._ You could leave this city and never come back. _Jack squeezed his eyes shut to banish the voice._ No. Not unless the boys don’t want me. If they don’t, then maybe I’ll run, but if they do… Well, then I’m meant to be here. And I’ll stay.

_“Jack?” A timid voice broke through Jack’s reverie, and he turned to see Crutchie standing half in and half out of the doorway._

_Jack pushed himself upright and tried to look like he didn’t care what had just happened inside. “Yeah?”_

_Crutchie raised his voice slightly to be heard over the uproar indoors and said, “Come on in, Mr. Leader o’ Manhattan.”_

_Jack’s eyes widened, and Crutchie responded with a huge grin. Jack bounded up the steps two at a time to wrap Crutchie in a bearhug, and then they stumbled into the Lodging House together, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Crutchie was whooping riotously, and Jack’s smile was so broad he could feel his cheeks starting to hurt. He was meant to be here. He would stay._

_*_

_Jack and the newsies of Lower Manhattan quickly settled into an easy relationship with each other. The kids liked his candor, confidence, and wit, and Jack was as good as his word in doing all he could to keep the kids clothed and fed and housed._

_“Naw, Mush, that ain’t how you says it. In-FUR-no,_ fur _, like it’s somethin’ what’s got a real fuzzy pelt, yeah? Try again. Yeah, that’s better. Yeah, now you’s got it! Good work, kid—now go try it out, sell those papes!”_

_“Where you think you’s goin’, Specsy? It’s late! Oh, right. Yeah, I didn’t sell so many t’day, either. Just one o’ those things, I guess. Lousy headline… But hey! This could actually be good f’r both of us, kid, ‘cause I needs a favor, an’ I think you’s my man. You up f’r it? Okay, so here’s the deal—I needs someone ta take my bunk f’r the night so I c’n sleep up on the rooftop without Kloppman fussin’ at me. If you’s in my bed then he ain’t gonna notice I’s elsewhere, but if he sees I ain’t where I’s paid ta be, he’s gonna start sniffin’ around and bawl me out again just on account of how I likes seein’ the stars an’ the sky. Yeah, it seems silly ta me, too, but… Mhmm. No, f’real, Specs. You’d be helpin’ me out, I promise. Yep. Yep. Cross my heart an’ hope ta die. You in? Excellent.”_

_“Trust me, Sniper, a smile goes a long way when you’s sellin’ ta a lady. What’s that? No, ya don’t gotta_ mean _it! I ain’t askin’ ya ta marry her, idiot! All I want ya ta do is fake a little friendliness. You c’n still hate her all ya likes, I promise. Sound good? Alright. Show me. …Saints preserve us, Sniper, you looks like you’s killed someone an’ eaten their guts. Ain’t you never smiled before? Try again.”_

_“I’s been thinkin’, fellas—it’d be real nice ta be able ta eat even when you’s had a rough day sellin’ or ta still have a bed in the Lodging House even if you gets sick an’ can’t pay the rent f’r a while, wouldn’t it? Yeah? Well, I thinks so, too. Now I knows we ain’t got that kinda dough each of us on our own, but if we pools it together, I think we could swing it. Our own slush fund, see? Ev’ryone chips in when they’s got a little bit extra, an’ ev’ryone’s allowed ta take some out when they’s got an emergency. Take a coupla days ta think about it, an’ we c’n vote on Friday.”_

_*_

_“Well, I’m gonna turn in, Crutch. You comin’?”_

_“No, I, uh, I thinks I’ll sleep inside t’night, Jack.”_

_Jack tilted his head and drew his eyebrows together. “What?”_

_“It’s, uh… The sirens was real loud last night, an’ I’s hopin’ maybe it’ll be quieter indoors.”_

_“Really?” Jack scratched at the back of his neck. “Since when’ve ya had trouble sleepin’ through noise?”_

_“Since always,” Crutchie said. “Ain’t nobody sleeps well when them fire trucks is racin’ by.”_

_“Well, that’s funny,” Jack said, looking Crutchie straight in the eyes. “ ‘Cause I had a coughin’ fit in the middle o’ the night what woke me up, an’ you slept straight through it. An’ wanna know what’s even funnier? I heard three sets of sirens while I was tryin’ ta fall back asleep, an’ you didn’t stir. Not once.”_

_Crutchie flushed and looked at the ground._

_“What’s really goin’ on, kid?” Jack asked, crossing the room to sit down next to his friend._

_Crutchie bit his lip and turned away from Jack, and Jack felt his mind kick into high gear. “Ohhh no, Crutchie—did I screw up?  I’s an idiot, you knows that—hell,_ **I** _knows that, I says an’ does dumb stuff all the time, oh, shit, what’d I do, please just tell me, I’ll apologize right away, I’s so sorry, really I am, I didn’t mean ta hurt ya an’ here I did anyway, me’n my big mouth an’ my awful jokes an’ I don’t know why you even—”_

_“Jack!” Crutchie interrupted, reaching an arm out to grab Jack’s wrist as the older boy paced by. Jack froze in the middle of smacking his newsboy cap against his right thigh and looked over at Crutchie, utterly stricken. “It ain’t you, Jack.”_

_“They never shoulda made me leader,” Jack said, still stuck in place._

_“I said it ain’t you,” Crutchie growled. “You gonna listen ta me or not?”_

_Jack blinked, and Crutchie could practically see him run back through the last ten seconds of their conversation, his shoulders relaxing as he processed Crutchie’s words. “It… I didn’t… You don’t hate me?”_

_“You’s my brother, Jackie,” Crutchie smiled, tugging Jack over to sit beside him once more. “We’s gonna make each other mad sometimes, an’ it does rile me up some when ya don’t listen ta me, but ain’t nothin’ you could do what’d make me hate you. Not a thing.”_

_Jack gave Crutchie a tentative smile and then flung his arms around his best friend, squeezing him so tightly that Crutchie thought he heard his ribs creak. “Thanks, bud,” Jack said._

_“F'r sure.”_

_Jack pulled away and frowned. “If it ain’t me, who is it?”_

_“I c’n fight my own battles,” Crutchie said sharply._

_“I knows that,” Jack said, his voice calm once more. “But if someone’s botherin’ ya an’ makin’ it so’s ya don’t wanna go up ta the Penthouse, then I needs ta know. If word gets out I can’t protect my newsies, I’s done for.”_

_“So you’s bein’ selfish,” Crutchie said, raising an eyebrow._

_Jack shrugged. “I’s gotta look out f’r myself, ‘cause ain’t nobody else going to.”_

_Crutchie grinned, and Jack clapped him on the back, both of them satisfied with the fiction they’d agreed upon. Crutchie was fine with helping Jack maintain his reputation, and Jack was happy to pretend that he didn’t care for Crutchie as deeply as they both knew he did._

_“Well, in that case,” Crutchie said, his hands worrying over the rags wrapped around his crutch, “It’s Chambers.”_

_Jack sucked a breath in through his teeth, and his nostrils flared. “What’s he done and why.”_

_Crutchie tugged up the pant leg of his good leg and pointed to a large bruise. “That an’ others like it. Plus he’s been takin’ a cut o’ my earnin’s, too.”_

_Jack growled. “How long?”_

_“Since you took charge.”_

_Jack leapt to his feet, fists raised in a fighting stance. “I’ll kill him!”_

_“I’s more worried he’ll kill you,” Crutchie admitted, rubbing his shoulder.  
_

_“How’s that?”_

_“Well, he’s been threatenin’ it a while now,” Crutchie said. “That’s why I ain’t come ta ya sooner ‘bout all this.”_

_Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Go on, kid. I wants the whole story.”_

_Crutchie sighed and fiddled with a loose thread from the wrappings on his crutch. “You’s gonna be mad at me.”_

_“I already is on account o’ you not tellin’ me straight off,” Jack said, “But like you said earlier, ain’t nothin’ you could do ta make me hate you, an’ anger don’t last long. ‘Sides, I knows you had your reasons, even if I don't like 'em. C'mon, Crutch—I just wants ta set things right.”_

_“Okay,” Crutchie said, still reluctant. “So maybe a week after Tiny left, Chambers is grumblin’ ‘bout how you took his spot, how he was s’posed ta be in charge after Tiny, how he was older’n you an’ so it weren’t right you got the top job. I told him off, ‘o course, an’… Eh, he didn’t take it well.” Jack frowned, and Crutchie continued. “Decided ta beat me up, an’ when he was done he told me if I toldja the truth ‘bout what happened, he’d challenge ya f’r the leadership o’ Manhattan. Do it in front of ev’ryone an’ beat ya up real bad. Kill ya, if it came ta that.”_

_“That so?” Jack crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “I’d like ta see him try.”_

_“That’s why I didn’t tell ya, idiot,” Crutchie retorted. “He’d try, an’ he’d win!”_

_Jack’s eyes flashed. “He would_ not!” 

_Crutchie scoffed. “He’s got twenty pounds an’ two years on ya, Jackie. He’d win.”_

_Jack clenched his fists and glared at Crutchie, who refused to give an inch. Jack looked away first, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah. He would.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. “Honestly, I’s shocked he ain’t tried it already, Crutch,” he said, sinking back down next to his friend. “I knows he thought he was gonna be leader after Tiny. I knows he hates me. I... I's scared of what he's gonna do, kid, I ain't gonna lie; It keeps me up some nights.”_

_Crutchie shoved Jack gently, making Jack huff a tired laugh._

_“I dunno why Tiny picked me ‘steada Chambers, either,” Jack admitted, picking at a hole in his pants. “Borough leaders is s’posed ta be the scariest ones, ya know? An’ I just ain’t there yet.” Jack smacked his chewing gum and tried to blow a bubble, without success. “Gimme a coupla years an’ a little more food an’ then yeah, maybe, but right now? I ain’t big enough ta put the fear o’ God inta no one.”_

_“Aw, that ain’t what bein’ a borough leader's about, Jackie,” Crutchie said, placing his hand on Jack’s cap and gently shaking Jack’s head. “ ‘S about takin’ care o’ your boys, an’ you does that.”_

_“That’s a damn lie, an’ you’s proof of it!” Jack burst out, twisting to tug Crutchie’s pant leg up again. “That bruise is my fault! A sign o’ my failure!” He spat on the ground, disgusted with himself. “I oughta let Chambers challenge me an’ win—then you’d all have a leader what could protect ya ‘stead of a no-good weaklin’ what can’t even keep his own boys in line.” Jack dropped his head into his hands. “I oughta just pack up an’ leave, Crutchie. Hop a train ta Santa Fe an’ stop tryin’ ta be someone I ain’t. I… I can’t do this. I never shoulda tried. I…” He made an unintelligible noise before yanking his cap off and throwing it on the ground. “Dammit.”_

_Crutchie sighed heavily. “Oh, Jackie, that ain’t true. We needs ya real bad. If Chambers was in charge, ya think that’d stop him beatin’ on us? Ya think him gettin’ the power he wants’d make him behave?” Crutchie let the question hang for a second before continuing. “No. It’d make him worse, an’ you knows it. It wouldn’t just be me no more—it’d be Romeo, an’ JoJo, an’ Smalls, an’ then it’d be Albert an’ Mush an’… well, it’d be_ ev’ryone _, Jack. He’d rough us all up an’ take some o’ all our money. He’s big an’ tough an’ scary, sure, but he ain’t fit ta lead us. No way. But you, Jackie? You is.”_

_Jack laughed bitterly. “Yeah, sure.”_

_“I_ am _sure,” Crutchie said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You callin’ me a liar?”_

_Jack looked up to glare at Crutchie. “That’s playin’ dirty.”_

_“Just gettin’ ya ta rec’nize the facts,” Crutchie said, unmoved. “Far’s I’s concerned, ‘s okay that I can’t go up ta your Penthouse t’night. ‘S the price o’ makin’ sure you stays leader, that’s all. An’ trust me, Jackie, ‘s worth it. ‘Sides,” he said, cutting off Jack’s attempted retort, “ ‘S my body an’ my money, so ‘s my choice.”_

_Jack growled again and stalked away from Crutchie, tension written in every line of his too-skinny frame. Crutchie let him be, knowing that at a certain point words hurt Jack more than they helped. Either he’d come around or he wouldn’t, and talking would just make it all worse._

_They waited in near-silence for several minutes, Jack’s shuddering breaths the only sound in the room. Then:_

_“I’m gonna fight him.”_

“What?!” _Crutchie burst out. “Was I talkin’ ta a ghost just now? I thought we agreed that’s the_ last _thing ya should do!”_

 _“I_ gotta _do it, Crutchie,” Jack said, his hazel eyes dark with anger and determination. “I can’t let him hurt ya no more, nor none o’ the other boys, neither. You say he’s gonna beat up on 'em if he’s leader, an’ that’s true, but how do we know he ain’t beatin’ up on ‘em already?” He paused, and Crutchie’s eyes widened. “What if the other boys is hidin’ things from me, too, thinkin’ they’s gotta hold quiet in order ta keep me in power? What if the reason Specs didn’t have enough money f’r a bed last week is ‘cause Chambers took a cut, an’ Specsy didn’t say nothin’ ‘cause he figures the same thing you do—proppin’ up ol’ Jack ta protect ev’ryone else is worth it, so long’s he’s the only one suff’rin?”_

_Crutchie swallowed hard, and Jack rolled his shoulders, the fire in his eyes more intense than Crutchie had seen in years. “I bet ya anythin’ that’s what’s goin’ on, Crutch, an’ it’s gotta end. I ain’t gonna stand by an’ let my boys get hurt, not when I knows it’s happenin’, an’ especially not when it’s happenin’ on account o’ me.” Jack licked his lips and gave a feral smile. “I’s gonna fight Chambers, kiddo, an’ when I do? He’s gonna wish he’d never been born.”_

_*_

_Jack ignored the pounding in his skull and the blood dripping into his eyes and pressed his advantage, tightening his thighs around Chambers’ waist and pummeling the boy into the ground. The boys would tell him later that the older newsie was screaming like a girl, howling like a banshee, whimpering like a baby, but Jack couldn’t hear any of that. All he could hear was the voice in his head telling him to end it, telling him to hit this frightened child again and again, cheering him on as Chambers’ nose split and bent, urging him to grab the throat and squeeze, that’s it, now tighter, and—_

_Jack sprang off of Chambers, chest heaving, eyes wild, looking frantically from one newsie to the next. He sucked in a quick breath and wiped his face clean of the terror he felt inside, leaving only the fury and triumph he knew the others would be expecting to see. “Get up,” Jack snapped, squatting next to Chambers and jabbing him in the chest. The boy groaned and opened his eyes as much as he could; they were swelling rapidly, and Jack knew the boy would soon be essentially blind. “I said, get up!” He yanked Chambers to his feet and shoved him towards the other end of Newsie Square, feeling no pity at all as the boy staggered, stumbled, and collapsed back onto the ground. “Don’t ever show your face ‘round here again,” Jack ordered, his voice tight._

_Race kicked at Chambers’ ribs as the boy tried to heave himself up once more, and a ripple of laughter spread throughout the crowd as Chambers let out a high-pitched squeak. Jack watched, stone-faced, as Chambers eventually gathered himself enough to limp from the square, his arm clearly broken and his left foot dragging awkwardly. As soon as Chambers was gone from sight, the newsies let out a huge cheer and crowded around Jack, hoisting him into the air and hugging him until his ribs ached. He gritted his teeth and pushed down the pain. He knew they needed to congratulate him more than he needed to get bandaged up, and so he let them slap and shove and push him around, giddy with the knowledge that their tormentor was gone._

_“How’d ya do it, Jack?” Crutchie whispered late that night, bandaging Jack in a lower bunk that they’d claimed once they realized Jack wouldn’t be able to climb up the fire escape for another week or so. “I was so scared you’d lose.”_

_“Practice,” Jack grinned, giving a laugh that turned into a pained yelp as Crutchie tightened the bandage around his wrist. “Spent the last month gettin’ lessons from the men down on the docks.”_

_Crutchie whistled. "That can't have been cheap. Slush fund money?”_

_“No way,” Jack said, indignant. “I weren’t gonna use the boys’ money ta fix a problem_ **I** _caused. My savin’s covered it just fine.”_

_Crutchie sucked in a breath. “But that was your Santa Fe money, Jack,” he said, his heart twinging._

_“Eh, whatever,” Jack said. “I’ll make more. Hey now—watch those hands, bucko, you’s gonna damage my handsome mug!”_

_“Aw, shaddap,” Crutchie said affectionately, washing the blood from Jack’s face. “You’s tough; you’ll be fine.”_

_“Nasty little shit caught me real good on the chin,” Jack grumbled, reaching to poke at a deep cut and whining when Crutchie slapped his hand away. “Ow! Careful!”_

_“Shoulda told him ta take that ring off,” Crutchie scolded, turning his attention to the right side of Jack’s chin. “Oof, this one’s real deep, Jackie—‘s gonna scar no matter what I do.”_

_“My life is ruined!” Jack lamented, attempting a dramatic gesture and wincing as he found himself unable to raise his arm above his collarbone. “Oh, ow, shouldn’ta done that…” He huffed and gave a rueful smile. “Saints alive, Crutchie, ev’rythin’ hurts!”_

_“Stop complainin’, you big baby,” Crutchie said. “Ladies like scars. Makes ‘em look dashin’.”_

_“Dashin’, eh?” Jack mused, puffing out his chest a little. “I likes the sound o’ that.”_

_Crutchie rolled his eyes and continued his work, leaving Jack to daydream about pretty girls and desert sunsets._

_*_

“Ya remembered, huh?” Chambers said, noticing the growl that rose in Jack’s throat as soon as Chambers stepped into the room. “Good job.” He crouched to stroke the scar on Jack’s chin and smiled. “I figured it was only a matter o’ time—I did leave ya a keepsake, after all.”

“Go to hell,” Jack snapped, and Chambers laughed. 

“Not today,” he said. “No, t’day we’s gonna write a letter ta your darlin’ wife, let her know you’s still alive… f’r now.” He pulled out a pencil and a sheet of paper, untied Jack’s hands, and shoved him up to a rickety table. “Now here’s what I wantcha ta say.” 

Jack’s heart leapt even as he kept his face still. Chambers had belonged to the large tribe of illiterate newsies, and now he wanted Jack to be in charge of writing the ransom letter? This was a golden chance to pass a message to Katherine.

Jack pretended to listen intently to Chambers’ words, asking him to repeat things every so often—despite the slaps it earned him—in order to make the charade more believable. Not a single thing the man said actually made it onto the page, though. Instead, Jack was scribbling furiously, trying to fit everything he needed to tell Katherine into a letter he hadn’t had time to plan.

_Ace, I love you. Forever. For sure. The kids too. I love you all so much it hurts, and I’ve lived a blessed life having you all in it. I know you, Ace, an I know you wanna come after me, but don’t. I’ll come home if I can. Chambers has me. Ask Charlie, he knows. I’m in a basement. Smells kinda like fish, floor’s of clay. Total darkness. Stone walls. I’m fine, don’t worry, just tell the police or a detective an get them to come chek it out. Don’t come. Don’t you dar. If I don’t come back move on. I don’t want you to be alone. I had a beautiful time with you, macushla, an if I’ve used up all the time I was meant to have with you then I’m still the luckiest man in the world, having gotten to love you an marry you an be your husband nearly ten years. You an the kids are the lights of my world an I want you to be happy without me. Do that for me, please. Love always, your Jack_

“I said, you got that?” Chambers snapped, giving Jack a suspicious look.

“Yeah,” Jack said, holding the sheet up for inspection.

Chambers gave it a quick onceover, and Jack swallowed a smile, overjoyed that he’d gotten to say goodbye. Then Chambers whirled around and socked Jack in the jaw, snapping Jack’s head back and making his vision blur around the edges. “Think I’m dumb, huh? Think you’s gonna pull one over on me the way ya did when ya cheated an' trained up ta beat me an' ruin my life all them years ago, huh?” He fisted a hand in the collar of Jack’s shirt and tugged upwards, forcing Jack to meet his eyes. “Nuh uh, Kelly. You don’t get ta tell your wife anythin’ but what I says you can. Try again.” He dropped Jack back onto the floor and handed him a new sheet of paper. “Dear Katherine,” he began, and Jack bit his lip to keep from screaming.

 

_Dear Kathirine,_

_It’s your husband, Jack. I’m fine, but if you want me back then you have to pay a rantsom. A hundred thoussand dollars will set me free. Next weeck a courier will come to your office. Give him the money. Do not show anyone this note. Tell the police to drop the case. The dehtective you hired must also go. If not, I will be killed. I’m serias. They will know if you don’t follow these directions. It’s very immportant you do exactly as I say if you want me to comb home. You have one week to get the money. If you trueley love me, you will do this forr me._

_Your hussband,_

_Jack Kelly_

Chambers snatched the sheet as soon as Jack finished writing and scanned it greedily. “Good boy, Kelly. Much better.” He set the letter on the table. “Now, just in case your wife don’t rec’nize your handwritin’, how’s about we adds one more personal touch, hmm?” He chuckled and reached into his back pocket, and Jack felt his blood run cold.

 _Hang on, Jackie-boy_ , he thought, sweat beading at his temples. _Just hang on. All you want is to see your family, and if you hang on long enough then you will. You_ will _. You have to make it home to them, Jack, okay? Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes._ He clocked the item in Chambers’ hand, squeezed his eyes shut, and held his breath. _Think about your family, Jack. Whatever it takes to make it home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)
> 
> mwah ha ha evil laughter
> 
> I hope you liked it


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Katherine learns some of what happened last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood and vomit.

_**8 days after Jack's abduction**_

“Mrs. Kelly?”

Katherine leapt up from her desk. Maybe the man had a message from the private eye. Maybe he had a message from Jack. Maybe Jack was just in the other room and—

“Package for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the small parcel from the man’s hands, trying to hide her disappointment that this was just another work-related delivery from the office courier. She sank back down at her desk and shoved her small typewriter to the side, clearing a space for the parcel. The courier’s timing was good, though, she thought; the article she was working on was going nowhere.

It wasn’t that the subject was boring, or that she hadn’t done the legwork, or that the deadline wasn’t looming, it was just that she… well. It was Jack. _Maybe I should’ve taken some time off work_ , she mused, pulling out the silver letter opener her father had given her when she’d started work at _The World_. _Maybe I should’ve stayed home like Mama wanted; Mama and Davey and Chaya and…_ She gave a mental shrug and pulled out a small box and a letter. From one of her interviewees, maybe? Someone she’d written a profile on? She always refused gifts that were offered in person, but sometimes people were persistent. 

 _No, I’m glad I’m not at home,_ she thought, unfolding the letter. _Having me at work gives us all a sense of normalcy, distracts us, gets us out of the house…_

Her thoughts scattered like pigeons in the park when she looked at the letter. She didn’t even need to read a word to recognize Jack’s blocky handwriting, the sort that meant he’d been taking care with each letter rather than scribbling as soon as the next phrase popped into his head. Her throat went dry as she scanned the page, her eyes flicking to the end before she’d finished the first line, starting over, jumping to the middle, unable to follow the thread of his message until she’d scanned and rescanned three or four times. 

_A hundred thoussand dollars will set me free._

_Tell the police to drop the case. The dehtective you hired must also go. If not, I will be killed._

_I will be killed._

_I will be killed._

_It’s your husband, Jack._

The paper fell from her hands onto the desk and she fumbled for the box. It took her several tries to open it; her fingers simply wouldn’t cooperate.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered to herself, feeling bile rising in her throat. Finally, the cardboard lid slipped off and the contents were revealed. Katherine screamed and threw the box across the room, just barely managing to throw up on the floor and not her desk. She sank onto all fours on the carpet of her office, feeling her stomach lurch again and gagging helplessly. “No, no, no,” she gasped, her arms shaking underneath her. “It’s not real, it’s not, I…” She heaved again, and when she opened her eyes she saw a neat pair of handmade Italian leather shoes standing in front of her.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Kelly? Here, let me help you up,” her editor said, reaching his hand over to her. “Tell me what happened.”

Katherine grabbed his hand like it was a life preserver and made it halfway to her feet before crumpling, unconscious, to the ground.

 

*

 

“You didn’t have to do this, Mr. Dearing,” Katherine said, even as she leaned heavily on her editor’s arm.

He rolled his eyes as he helped her up onto the next step. “I’m well aware of your feelings on the matter. You’ve made sure to state them repeatedly on the drive here.” 

Katherine flushed. “I’m not ungrateful,” she said, her voice low. “I’m just…” She bit her lip.

“Yes,” he said, sparing her the indignity of admitting her emotions to her boss. “I know.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He patted her hand gently as they made it to the fourth floor landing. “This is you?”

“Yes.”

Katherine began fumbling in her purse for her keys as her editor stood awkwardly by, twisting his large class ring around and around. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back from the medical examiner about the, uh…”

“About my husband’s finger.” 

Mr. Dearing nodded, then looked angry at himself. “It might not even be his! We don’t know that yet; we don’t always have to leap to the worst possible conclusion.” 

“It’s his,” Katherine said flatly, her jaw tight.

Mr. Dearing winced. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kelly. Are you sure you don’t want company?”

“My mother is here already, thank you,” she said. “And I know you have to read through several articles still before the evening edition is ready.” 

“Those can run as-is if need be,” he said, frowning. “Your health is much more—”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted, then relented, giving him a small smile. “I promise. My mother will make sure I’m alright.”

“If you’re sure,” he repeated, “But… Well.” He shook his head. “Take the rest of the week off, Mrs. Kelly—no, don’t protest—I mean it. You need this. Focus on your family for right now, alright? Stay out for as long as you need to; this demands your full attention.” He growled. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell us earlier, Katherine, blast it! I would’ve—I could’ve—” 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” she said placidly, sorting through her keyring to find the right one. “I needed a distraction, and work was a good one. Productive. Useful. And I like having a routine.”

Mr. Dearing’s shoulders sagged slightly and he twisted his class ring around once more. “I’m just a phone call away if you need me."

“Thank you, Carter,” she said, her voice soft. “I appreciate it, I really do. Now head on back to work, alright? And with any luck I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” said Carter Dearing, taking her hand and giving it a firm squeeze. He made as if to leave, then whirled around on his heel and said abruptly, “He’ll make it home to you, you know. He loves you too much for this to end any other way.”

She smiled and waved him off, knowing that manners dictated he should see her safely into the apartment but not wanting him to see or hear her family falling apart.

Indeed, as soon as she inserted the key in the lock, she heard the pitter-patter of little feet hammering down the hallway, and braced herself for what was to come.

“Daddy!” Nicholas yelled, crashing into her legs.

“No, Nicky,” Katherine said gently, hefting her 2 ½-year-old into her arms. “Not yet.” 

Nicholas looked into Katherine’s face, his dark brown eyes the mirror of her own. Then he burst into tears. “Want mine daddy!” He wailed, squirming in her grip until she put him back down on the floor. He ran into the nursery and, judging from the muffled volume of his sobs, buried his head in his pillow.

Theo took over for Nicholas, though, his higher-pitched cries starting to echo out of the kitchen. “Noooooo!” He yelled, and then came the crash of a bottle being knocked to the floor.

Katherine shucked off her shoes and walked into the kitchen to find her youngest child red-faced and screaming, unwilling to take the formula Kate Pulitzer had prepared for him. “Katherine!” Kate said, surprised. “Why are you home so early?” 

Katherine felt her stomach swoop again and raced to the trash can to retch again. 

“I had morning sickness with all seven of you,” Kate noted. 

“It’s not—” Katherine said, vomiting again. “It’s not that,” she finally managed, wiping her face with a dishrag. “It’s…” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to kick the image of that damn finger out of her head. “I don’t know why you think I’m pregnant,” she said, more accusingly than she meant to.

Her mother was right, of course. Katherine and Jack had been about to announce it, too. They’d been talking about names for over a month, they’d started looking at larger apartments, they’d drawn up a guest list for a homey little brunch with their nearest and dearest where they’d share the news, but then… Well.

As of last week Katherine had been teetering on the edge between “has she just gained weight or is she in the family way,” and although she was desperately trying to stay in the former camp by loosening her corsets and wearing flowy dresses, her body was going to betray her soon. It already had, by the looks of it, although she hoped Kate was the only one who'd noticed. Rosie had been casting knowing glances her way recently, though, and Chaya's keen eyes missed very little, so most everyone probably knew by now, but... Katherine would never admit that to herself. She couldn’t. This was Jack’s news just as much as it was hers, and she wouldn't say anything until he was home. She refused.

Kate, bless her, just sighed and bent to pick the bottle up off the floor. 

“I got a severed finger in the mail at work today,” Katherine said.

Kate clapped a hand to her mouth and sank into a chair, her face white. 

Katherine avoided her mother’s eyes as she crossed the room to pick Theo up. They both remained silent as Katherine unbuttoned her bodice and blouse, positioning her youngest child in her lap as she tugged down the side of her corset and chemise. “There you are, baby,” she said. “Go on.” Theo latched without incident—it had been rough at the start, just like with Ellie, but this time things had ended differently, and by now it was a soothing experience for both of them. “I think it’s Jack’s,” she said, the words sharp against the soft squeaks of Theo nursing.

“Lord have mercy,” Kate breathed. “Is… Is there a chance it isn’t?” 

“Maybe?” Katherine replied, her voice and her steady façade cracking at the same time. “I didn't look at it too closely, I couldn't manage it, but it… It came with a letter that said…” Her face crumpled as the words replayed in her head. “He wrote the letter, Mama, I know he did, and it was awful, it’s all so awful, I just…” She burst into tears, and Kate scrambled out of her chair to hug Katherine tightly. “I just want him to be okay!” Katherine sobbed, pressing against her mother for comfort just as her children did with her. 

“I know, my darling, I know,” Kate soothed.

In all of the hubbub, they missed the sound of Eleanor’s determined footsteps as she marched into the kitchen, Mitzi the cat at her heels. “Mommy!” She announced, standing right next to her mother and grandmother, annoyed that they weren’t immediately paying attention to her. “Mommy, stop crying!”

Katherine and Kate pulled apart just enough to look down at Eleanor, whose hands were set firmly on her hips. “Mommy, you hafta stop crying, okay?”

Katherine sniffled and raised her eyebrows. “Do I?” She asked, a warning edge to her voice. If Ellie was coming in to initiate another power struggle, Katherine was not in the mood. 

“Yes,” Eleanor said, supremely confident as only a five-year-old can be. “You don’t need ta worry anymore, Mommy, ‘cause I know where Daddy is.” 

“He’s at work, Eleanor,” Katherine said stiffly, sharing a look with Kate. Katherine’s family and friends were divided on the wisdom of maintaining this lie, she knew—was it better to let the children believe the fiction about Jack being at work, or was it better to tell them the truth? She didn’t think either option was particularly good, but for now she was holding fast to Jack’s own invented excuse. Had Ellie finally seen through it?

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “No, he’s not.” Katherine started to argue, but Ellie barreled on. “He’s onna boat, Mommy. Just like Grampa! Daddy an’ Grampa are onna boat together, an' they're havin' lots of fun." She broke into a grin and did an excited little hop. "It's all okay, Mommy! They’re sailing in the ocean with God!” 

Katherine’s jaw dropped, and Kate’s eyes grew round as saucers.

Eleanor smiled, thoroughly pleased with herself. “So you don’t need ta worry!” She patted Katherine’s arm reassuringly. “God’s taking good care of Daddy. I prayed about it an’ everything, an’ God said he’d make sure Daddy an’ Grampa don’t get drownded in the ocean.” She kissed her mother’s elbow and patted Theo’s head. “So crying is silly, Mommy, okay? Daddy’s happy, an’ you don’t need to worry anymore.”

“I… Thank you, Bunny,” Katherine said helplessly. “That’s… That’s good to know.” 

“You’re welcome!” Eleanor sang blithely, and pranced out of the kitchen, Mitzi following along behind.

Katherine turned to Kate, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Mama! Mama, I..." She made an inarticulate noise, then continued. "I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

“Both,” Kate said, her own laugh turning into a sob. “Oh, Kitty, my sweet girl—do both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired all the time, I'm trying to read more because reading makes me happy, and I'm trying to spend time outside doing things so that I make friends (bc I currently have 0 friends here, and it's really getting to me), plus work is tiring (though that's nothing new, and I think that goes for everyone), soooooo yes, all that --> delays in writing/posting. By the time I'm done doing other things, I'm either too tired to open the word doc at all, or I open it and fall asleep while typing/editing. So yeah, this one wasn't slow in the writing, but it was slow in me getting to it. Still, I promised I wouldn't leave a story unfinished, and I won't, so don't worry about that!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes discover a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW cursing, mentions of things that have happened in previous chapters

“So, where’s this letter?” Charlie asked as Katherine ushered him into the living room. She handed it to him, and he sank down into the large armchair by the fireplace and propped his bad leg up on the ottoman, grunting a little as he did so. “And—” Charlie began, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed shortly by the ring of the telephone on the sideboard.

Katherine shot him a desperate look, unable to process both things at once.

“I’ll get the door, you get the phone,” he said evenly, and she mouthed her thanks, the phone receiver already at her ear.

“Mrs. Katherine Kelly speaking,” she said, and Charlie marveled at how calm she sounded.

He undid the latch quietly, not wanting Nicholas to wake up and repeat the crying routine that happened every time someone opened the front door. “Hi guys,” he said, motioning Davey and Chaya inside. “Kath’s on the phone.”

Katherine was not on the phone by the time they got to the living room; she was sitting on the couch, face in her hands, weeping quietly.

“Ohhh, sweetheart,” Chaya said, sinking next to her friend and pulling her close. “Shhh, shhh.” She continued to make meaningless, comforting sounds as Katherine cried into Chaya’s starched work blouse. Davey exchanged a pained look with Charlie, who winced. It wasn’t that they begrudged Katherine her tears—they just hated feeling so helpless. After several minutes of Chaya stroking her friend’s hair and rocking Katherine back and forth, Katherine quieted enough to speak.

“Where’s Miriam?” She hiccupped, lifting her head to look around. 

“With my family,” Davey said, finally taking a seat. “Chaya has to be in extra early tomorrow, and it was either drop Miri off tonight or have Chaya risk being late.”

Katherine nodded, hiccupped again, and rubbed at her eyes. “That was Carter Dearing, my editor,” she said. “They got the report back from the doctor just now, and of course they can’t say if it’s Jack’s or not, but…” she gagged slightly and covered her mouth, waiting a moment before continuing. “But they confirmed that it is a man’s pinky finger, and…” she closed her eyes just long enough to relay the next bit of news. “And whoever it belongs to was alive when it happened.”

Charlie crossed himself, Chaya cursed in Yiddish, and Davey released a long-held breath.

“Good,” Charlie said, relief evident in his voice. “That’s real good. I mean, it isn’t, but… it is, ‘cause it means he’s alive.”

They sat quietly for a moment, all of them too nervous to direct the conversation or point out the obvious flaw in Charlie’s logic. _He’s alive_ … Well. That wasn’t necessarily true. Maybe he _had_ been, and recently, but… but what about now? They didn’t know. They couldn’t.

Eventually, Chaya rubbed Katherine’s shoulder and asked, “May we see the letter?” 

“Of course. Here, I’ll read it to you.” Charlie handed it over, and Katherine read out its contents, stumbling over one or two phrases that made her eyes water too much to see Jack’s blocky print.

Davey’s face was grim by the time she finished. “Whoever it is knows you hired a detective,” he said. “That means they’ve got eyes on you, Kath. I know you don’t like it, but I’m keeping the boys by your door. The fire escape, too.”

Katherine didn’t protest this time; she just nodded.

“So… what’re ya gonna do?” Crutchie asked, posing the question that was on everyone’s minds. 

“Pay the ransom,” Katherine said immediately, incredulously, as if he were a fool not to have known. “I have an inheritance, and my family has money, so it’s not…” She trailed off, then rallied. It wasn’t her fault she was so much wealthier than her friends, and she helped them financially when she could, and she and Jack lived off of their two salaries, anyway, because Jack had insisted on putting nearly all of the inheritance into trust funds for the children, and honestly it wasn’t even that much money because her mother had gotten nearly everything, as was only right, and… She set her jaw mulishly. “I can pull it together. He’s worth any price. I don’t care how much they want—I’ll pay it.”

“Katherine,” Chaya said, hesitant but determined, “I’m sure you know this, but it needs to be said: Even if you pay the ransom, they may not let Jack go.”

Katherine rounded on her. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I do not know that I do,” Chaya said, raising her hands to indicate that she meant no harm. “I just do not want you to think that paying the ransom means that you will get your husband back. Anyone who is willing to do this—”

“Is willing to break a promise—I know that,” Katherine snapped. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious—I am quite keenly aware of the fact that I might never see Jack again no matter what I do, that he might already be dead and bloating in the East River, and—” 

“Hey, Kath,” Davey interrupted, trying to stop things from escalating, “Can I see the letter?”

Katherine rubbed her temples and handed it to him. “Be my guest.”

“I just wish we could narrow down the list of suspects,” Charlie said, leaning forward in the armchair. “If we could narrow it down to, say, ten people, then we could keep tabs on them ourselves. No need to tell the police, no need to have the detective… Problem solved. Maybe.”

Katherine ground her teeth and turned her head, trying to resist the urge to scream at her husband’s oldest friend.

Charlie had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Kath. I know that wasn’t helpful.”

She muttered something under her breath, and Chaya went to make her a cup of tea. Davey glanced up as his wife left, a pensive look on his face. “Kath, do you have a notepad?”

“By the phone.”

“Thanks.” Davey brought the letter over to the side table and read it through again, this time taking notes with a pen, his brow becoming increasingly furrowed as he went through it line by line.

“It really is Jack’s handwriting, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Katherine said wearily. “I’d know it anywhere.” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s…” He trailed off as he ran his finger over the letter again, checking and cross checking the notepad against the letter. “Hey, Crutchie?” He said, looking up. “Does the word ‘Chambers’ mean anything to you? Or maybe it’s a name?” 

Charlie frowned, rubbed his shoulder, and then froze. “Why?”

“I think Jack sent us a message,” Davey explained, bringing the letter over to the coffee table and showing them all his notes. “The misspellings, see?” He pointed to the pad, where he’d copied out each incorrect letter in order.

“ _Its chambers_ ,” Charlie read, and blanched.

“The misspellings were a code,” Katherine breathed, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh, heavens, how did I not _see_ it? I don’t—if I’d seen it earlier then I could’ve—” 

“You’re being pulled in a thousand different directions right now,” Chaya said sternly, cutting off her friend’s useless hypotheticals and pressing a hot mug of tea into her hands. Katherine gave a short laugh; it was the height of summer, yes, but Chaya was convinced that hot tea was soothing at any time of year. Chaya frowned and fixed Katherine with a stern look. “Do not fault yourself for not noticing it immediately, Katherine. You are holding yourself and your children together right now, and that is what’s most important. You have us to handle the other things.”

“I should’ve seen it,” Katherine mumbled, but this time she didn’t take the thought any further, choosing instead to sip her tea. 

“Chambers,” Charlie breathed, face ghostly pale. “I thought he was gone…” He swallowed hard and looked up at Katherine. “Look, Katherine. If this is Chambers we’re dealing with here, then Chaya’s right. The ransom won’t do a damn thing. As soon as he gets the money, it’s over. He’s going to kill Jack.” 

“Who _is_ this guy?” Davey demanded, his eyes flashing.

“Former newsie,” Charlie sighed. “He wanted ta be borough leader, but Jack got the job instead. Guess he never got over it.”

“He’s going to kill Jack over _that?”_ Katherine shot out of her seat and began to pace. “That was nearly twenty years ago! This is absurd! What kind of man would—”

“Chambers would,” Charlie said tightly. “He’d do it, Kath. Don’t test him.”

Chaya pursed her lips. “Okay, then how do we find him and stop this?”

They all looked at Charlie, who sighed. “I… Well, I mean, Chambers left when…” He coughed and shifted in his seat. “Well, he left pretty early after Jack took over, an’ none of us liked him enough ta keep in touch, so…”

“So we go to Specs in City Records,” Katherine said, marching to the door. “See if Chambers shows up in any census data, employment registries, apartment deeds, that sort of thing. What’s his given name, Charlie?”

“I… I don’t remember,” Charlie admitted, rubbing his forehead. “I ain’t sure any of us ever knew it. He weren’t chatty that way.”

“So we’re right back to where we started,” Katherine said, gritting her teeth. “What good is it knowing who has Jack if we can’t do anything about it!”

“Hang on, Kath,” Charlie said, realization dawning in his voice. “He still had a mother back then; he was one of the lucky ones that way, the bastard. I had ta head over ta his place once or twice—I forget why—but, well, I remember what the lady looked like an’ where the apartment was.” He set his shoulders and heaved himself to his feet. “So, you see, we _ain’t_ right back where we started. Or… or at least _maybe_ we ain’t.” He licked his lips and adjusted his crutch. “I’m gonna go back ta where Chambers grew up, see if his mom’s still there. See what I c’n find. I don’t want ya ta get your hopes up, Kath, but—a visit can’t hurt, right?”

“No. It can’t. And I’m coming with you,” Katherine said, hitting the side of her thigh as if that would reassure her somehow. 

“And me,” said Davey.

“No,” Charlie said, before Chaya could add her voice to the mix. “This lady is real touchy. Her son came by his temper honestly; she’s a bear. Trust me—it’s best if I go alone.” He eyed Katherine and Davey and shook his head. “If she sees you two, she’s gonna get suspicious—you look too respect’ble.”

“I could wear older clothes,” Katherine said.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t keep your mouth shut,” Charlie pointed out. “You’d scare her off, an’ we’d lose our best lead. Just let me do this, okay? I know what I’m about.”

“Charlie’s our best shot,” Chaya put in. “People like him. They trust him. If she’s going to open up to anyone, it will be him.”

Katherine sank back down onto the couch and looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink back a fresh set of tears. “ _I hate crying_ ,” she said, her voice thick. Her vision grew blurry as they all sat there, waiting for her to give Charlie permission to do this. Finally, she swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at Charlie dead-on. “Just… just go, okay? Go get him back, Charlie.” 

“I can’t promise anything, Kath,” Charlie said, laying a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “But I’ll do my best. I love him too, you know. He’s my brother.”

“I know,” Katherine choked out, the tears spilling over. “Dammit, I don’t _want_ to be crying, I—” She wiped her eyes fiercely and said, “Go on, then. And good luck.”

 

*

 

Charlie came back a couple of hours later, just before midnight, his gait stiff and his face pinched. He was greeted by Katherine and got a sleepy nod from Davey; Chaya had fallen asleep an hour before, her luminous eyes fluttering shut as she tried to hold onto the thread of the conversation.

“Well, I found her,” Charlie said, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw, “But she’s just as awful as I remember her bein’. I got nowhere with her. Nowhere at all.” 

“Tell me exactly what she said,” Katherine demanded, clenching her hands in her lap. “Every word.”

Charlie shook his head. “It ain’t right, what she said. I ain’t tellin’ ya, Kath. Won’t do ya any good ta know.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” Katherine said fiercely. “Jack is my husband, Charlie, and I have a right to know every piece of information that concerns him or could help us get him home.” 

“That’s just it,” Charlie said, shoulders sagging. “She ain’t inclined ta help us get Jackie home. She…” He bit his lip and scanned Katherine’s face, dark with fury and frustration, and her clenched fists, and her wild eyes, and even though he knew her anger wasn’t directed _just_ at him, that he was the bearing the brunt of it right now simply because he was there, because he was bringing bad news, something within him snapped. She wanted to know, did she? Well, alright. “She laughed in my face, Kath’rine. She laughed in my face, spat on my shoes, an’ then she—she said that Jack Kelly was a thief an’ a liar, that if he was in trouble then he had it comin’, an’ she hoped he was dead in an alley somewhere.”

Katherine shot up from the couch, her face white with rage. “He had it coming, did he?”

Davey snapped right out of his exhaustion, worried about Katherine’s temper and Mrs. Chambers’ harsh response. “Katherine, don’t—” He reached out to rub her arm, but she smacked his hand away.

“ _Don’t tell me what to do_ ,” she hissed. She rounded on Charlie then, preparing to rend him apart with words as sharp as knives, but the look in his eyes snapped her back into herself. She staggered slightly and sank back onto the couch. “I… Oh.” She laid a hand on her forehead and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry. I... I don’t know what came over me.” She cleared her throat and looked up at the boys. “Thank you for coming,” she murmured. “Thank you all for coming. I… need some time, I think. As do you. And it’s late.” She cleared her throat and rose slowly from the couch. “Charlie, do you think you… that is, if you wouldn’t mind, would you… could you take me to see Mrs. Chambers tomorrow morning before work? Please.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Charlie said reluctantly, glancing at Davey for confirmation. “I really don’t see—”

“ _Please_ ,” Katherine said, reaching to grip his hands tightly in hers. “Please Charlie, I—if this were Rosie, you’d do anything you could, right? You’d want to know it all?”

Charlie sighed. “Yeah. I would.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s the smart move,” Davey interjected, a little nervous to contradict Katherine.

She nodded. “It might be our only move, though. We don’t have much time—the ransom is due in a week. Maybe if she sees me in person, if I can speak to her as one mother to another, then… then maybe that will make a difference.” Charlie opened his mouth to speak, and Katherine briefly held up a hand to stop him. “I know it might not help,” she said, laying her hand on her stomach, “But… I have to try.”

“Okay,” Charlie said, ignoring Davey’s disapproving look. “I’ll be here at half past six.”

“Thank you,” Katherine said, clasping his hands. “All of you. I… Thank you.”

“We’re grateful to you for letting us be here,” Davey said solemnly. “Mike and Mush are on duty tonight,” he added, stooping to wake his sleeping wife. “And I’ll come by tomorrow after work.”

Katherine nodded, and her friends dispersed. She got ready for bed mechanically, relying on muscle memory to prompt her through each new task. She mistakenly brushed her teeth twice. Her heart sank as paused outside the bedroom, not wanting to sleep in her marriage bed but knowing that she had to. She had to, because Ellie needed her. She had to, because her child was hurting. She had to, because she would be both mother and father to her babies if need be, and damn anyone who thought she’d do anything less.

Katherine crawled into bed, kissed her daughter’s summer-damp forehead, and waited for sleep.

 

*

 

_9 days since Jack’s abduction_

Charlie did a double-take when he arrived at the Kellys’ apartment building the next morning. He was five minutes late, but still, he hadn’t expected Katherine to be waiting for him on the sidewalk, her children in tow.

“Hi, Uncle Charlie!” Eleanor sang, dropping her grip on her mother’s skirt and scampering over to throw her arms around Charlie’s good leg.

“Good morning, Ellie,” he said, slightly bemused. “Katherine, are you sure that you…?”

“This woman needs to see what’s at stake here,” Katherine said grimly, adjusting Theo on her hip and looking down at Nicholas. “Are you ready for an adventure, Bug?”

Nicky nodded shyly. “See Daddy?” 

“Not today, darling,” Katherine said evenly. “Maybe tomorrow.” Nicholas started to sniffle, but Katherine ignored him, tugging him up to meet Charlie. “I’ve called us a cab. It should be here soon.” Charlie opened his mouth to object, but Katherine cut him off. “You’ve got work and I’ve got small children. We’re not walking all that way.” 

Charlie looked at Nicky’s tear-stained face, watched as Eleanor ran over to hug her little brother and whisper in his ear, and took in Theo’s dusky hazel eyes, the mirror of Jack’s own. “Okay.”

The ride was mostly silent, as all three of the Kelly children were accustomed to riding in cars. It had taken Charlie years to get used to the odd sensation of being jolted along over the road at a pace he could never hope to match, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand how something like this could be so normal to his children, but that was the way things were now, he supposed, and it certainly made life easier for him.

They disembarked a block away from the apartment, and Katherine paid the cabbie extra to wait for them, knowing they’d have difficulty finding a driver willing to pick them up from here. 

“I can’t sit here all day, lady,” he said gruffly, and Katherine nodded.

“I understand. Twenty minutes, no more. And I’ll pay you double the return fare if you’re still here when we return.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You got it.” 

Ellie pinched her nose as they climbed the crowded steps of the tenement building. “Mommy,” she whined, “Why is it so stinky?” They stepped onto the next landing and Ellie frowned. “Mommy, look at that lady. Why is she so dirty? Why doesn't she wash her clothes?”

“Shh, Eleanor.” 

“But why doesn’t she take a bath?”

“Because she doesn’t have a bathtub in her apartment, Eleanor. Now shush.” 

“But she’s dirty! And it’s stinky! Can we go home? I wanna go home!”

“Eleanor!” Katherine snapped. “You need to be quiet, alright? We’re going to talk to a very important lady, and I need you to do as you’re told. I’ll answer all your questions when we’re back outside.” 

“But—” 

_“Eleanor Joy!”_

Ellie’s mouth clapped shut and she shot her mother a mulish look. Katherine glared right back, and although Ellie made a huffy noise as she looked away, she stayed silent for the next three sets of stairs. 

“Nicky tired,” Nicky said eventually, dropping Katherine’s hand and sitting down on the stairs. 

“I know, cookie, but you have to keep going,” Katherine said, using her free hand to reach for him. “We’re nearly there, I promise.” 

“Up, Mommy, up,” he demanded, raising his arms to be held. 

“I can’t, darling,” she said, struggling to keep her tone light. “I’m already holding Theo, see? I can’t pick you up, too.”

“Nicky up!” He pouted. “Uncle Chawy, Nicky up!”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Charlie said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I can’t, either.”

“Eleanor, would you help Nicholas get back up, please?” Katherine asked, hoping her willful kindergartener would cooperate.

“Hmmph!” Ellie said, taking the next two stairs.

Katherine bit back a reprimand and squatted down to hold a hand out to Nicholas. “I know you’re tired, Bug. Mommy is, too. But we’re nearly there, just one more set of stairs, and if you do it then when we get home I’ll give you a cookie, okay?”

“Cookie now!” Nicky said, scrambling to his feet.

“Cookie soon,” Katherine corrected, but Nicholas was already scrambling up the stairs on all fours, too excited about the prospect of a treat to listen to his mother. Of course, this meant that when they made it to Mrs. Chambers’ front door and there was no cookie in sight, Nicky burst into tears.

Charlie cast a look at Katherine. “Should we wait until he calms down?”

“No. Let her see what her son has done to mine.”

Charlie nodded and knocked firmly on the door. “Mrs. Chambers? It’s—uh, it’s Crutchie again. Can we talk?”

A minute or so passed before a small, weathered woman opened the door. “I toldja yesterday, I—who’re you?” She said, her eyes flicking to Katherine and the children.

Katherine stuck out her hand for a shake. “Good morning, Mrs. Chambers. I’m Jack Kelly’s wife, Katherine, and these are our children: Eleanor, Nicholas, and Theodore.”

The woman narrowed her eyes and looked down her nose at Nicky, who was still crying, and at Eleanor, who was pouting behind Katherine’s skirts. “So?”

“I’m here to ask you if you have any information—anything at all—that could help bring Jack home,” Katherine said humbly. Charlie’s eyes darted towards her—he knew that tone all too well. He hadn't heard it since the days when Katherine and the newsies were still settling into their friendship with each other and the boys hadn’t yet learned how far they could push her, but it was a tone he'd never forget. This was her ‘sweet before I strike’ voice, the one she used when she was furious with someone and giving them one last chance to admit they’d done something wrong. The first few times she’d used it at the Lodging House, it had ended with someone –usually Race– running out the back door to escape a verbal lashing. 

Mrs. Chambers rested a hand on her hip. “Why would I?” 

“Well, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but your son is holding my husband captive somewhere. If you have any idea where your son lives now, or where I could find him, that would be such a huge help to me, and I’d be forever grateful.” Katherine’s voice dropped a bit as she added, “I don’t want any trouble, you understand; I just want Jack home safe and sound. It’s been nine days since I’ve seen him, and I… we…” She swallowed hard and pulled Nicky and Eleanor in close. “We miss him. Desperately.”  

Mrs. Chambers crossed her arms and shook her head. “You's got some nerve comin’ here, missy. Didja know that on account of what your husband did ta my boy, I ain’t been able to see Ned in ten years? Ten years! An’ you shows up on my doorstep with your little brats cryin’ about nine days?” She spat on Katherine’s fashionably practical black boots. “Get out.”

“I don’t know what you mean when you say my husband kept you from your son, Mrs. Chambers, but I’m very sorry for whatever happened. It seems that you know how painful it is to be kept from a loved one, though, and so I’m begging you, please help us. You're a good, hardworking woman, I'm sure, and you're a mother, too-- you understand that my children need their father. Have pity on us, please. Help me find my husband. We need him.”

“An’ I needed my son, but your man saw to it I din’t have one f’r a decade, so where’s that leave us, huh?” Mrs. Chambers’ nostrils flared. “My boy din’t deserve what happened ta him, you hussy—your damned husband nearly killed ‘im! He come home bleedin’ an’ busted up just f’r wantin’ ta sell newspapers in Manhattan, the way he’d been doin’ f’r years! All of a sudden your man decides he don’t like Ned, an’ then there weren’t no warnin’, no reason, no expl’nation, no nothin’—he just runs my boy outta the borough like some kinda dog. Whips him an’ breaks his ribs an’ leaves him without a livin’, leaves him an’ me high an’ dry! My poor boy had ta turn ta whatever he could ta keep us afloat after that-- all he were doin’ was tryin’ ta feed his fam’ly, an’ he got ten years for it! Ten _years_ , you bitch, ten years of his life stolen away from him, all on accounta your husband!” 

Charlie took a step forward and jabbed a finger at Mrs. Chambers. “That ain’t true at all, an’ you knows it!” His brow was furrowed and his expression was thunderous. Katherine couldn’t recall ever having seen him so angry. “Your precious boy beat me an’ stole from me an’ threatened ta kill Jack, an’ you think he’s some sort of _victim?”_ Charlie’s eyes flashed. “Well, he ain’t. Not one bit. He’s a bully an’ a liar, an’ you know what? Now that I’s talked ta ya, I’s pretty sure he learned it from you.”

Mrs. Chambers gasped in shock and drew back her hand to slap Charlie, who ably caught her wrist and held it. “Ned is a good boy!” She snapped, twisting her arm to get away from him. “Anything he did, he did to feed himself an’ his poor mother!” 

“Are you kidding me? He wanted to kidnap my daughter!” Katherine burst out. “What on earth could justify kidnapping a _five-year-old!_ If Jack hadn’t been there, who knows what would’ve happened to her!” 

“Oh, shut up,” Mrs. Chambers said, whirling on Katherine. “He was never going to take your child; that was never the plan. She was just there to make sure your husband went quietly, that’s all.” 

Katherine pounced. “So you _do_ know where he is! You’ve seen him, and recently!” 

“I didn’t say that,” Mrs. Chambers replied, shaken.

“You didn’t have to,” Katherine responded, triumphant and furious all at once. _"I_ did.” 

Mrs. Chambers started to protest, but Katherine cut her off. She pushed Nicholas and Eleanor in front of her and turned so that Theo was on display, too. “Jack has three children and one on the way, Mrs. Chambers. You may not like me, and you may not like my husband, but please, _please—_ for the sake of my children, tell me where he is. They are innocent in all of this; they’re too young to even understand what’s happening. And they need a father. So please—have pity. _Please_.” 

Mrs. Chambers’ face darkened. “If it weren’t for your husband I’d have grandbabies of my own,” she snarled, and slammed the door in Katherine’s face.

Katherine leapt for the door and began pounding on it. “No! You can’t just stop talking to me! Open that door! You coward! Get back out here!” She took a gasping breath and leaned her forehead against the door. “Please, Mrs. Chambers. I’m begging you. _Begging_ you. I will get down on my hands and knees if you want me to, just… For the love of all that’s holy, please. I need you to tell me where my husband is!”

“No,” Mrs. Chambers said, through the door, and Katherine screamed, setting Theo down so she could hammer at the door with both fists. 

“You animal! I’m going to find out where he is with or without you! I’m not giving up, not ever, no matter what—and if your son kills Jack, I will come back here and kill _you!_ How dare you shelter that dog? How dare you keep me from my husband?! Get back out here and talk to me face to face, you cowardly fucking _bitch!”_

Then Katherine paused for breath, and Theo clutched her ankle. She looked down to see Jack’s hazel eyes staring up at her from her youngest son’s round, unblemished face. “Mommy?”

She gaped at Theo, then looked over to Nicky, who was so terrified that he had stopped crying, and Eleanor, who had hidden her face against Charlie’s right thigh. “Oh, my babies,” she breathed, sinking to her knees in front of the door. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She gathered all three of them in her arms and sobbed into their hair, weeping for herself and for her children and for the husband she might never see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this story won't *just* be hurt, there is comfort on the way! (eventually)
> 
> Please yell at me! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Katherine gets very close to finding Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW blood, miscarriage (sorry)

Charlie managed to shepherd all four Kellys down the stairs of the tenement building without further incident and quickly bundled them into the cab. He settled a silent Nicholas onto his lap and checked his watch; he could still be on time for work if he asked the driver to stop at _The World Building_ first, but quick glance at Katherine put a pin in that idea. His friend’s eyes were wild, and he was sure that part of the reason she’d clasped her hands so firmly around Theo’s chubby middle was to keep her hands from trembling. 

“Charlie,” she whispered, turning to him. “Charlie, she knows where he is. She does. She knows.”

He could hear the dryness of her mouth and the fear in her heart. “Yeah,” he said. “No doubt in my mind on that.” 

Katherine looked out the window and then whipped her head around. “She’s going to tell Chambers. She’s going to warn him. She knows we know, she’s going to warn him, she’s going to run off and tell him, Charlie, she’s going to do it, she—” 

“Shh,” he said, reaching across Eleanor to lay a hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Not here.”

“Not here,” Katherine repeated slowly, obediently. The vacancy in her eyes reminded him of some of the Civil War veterans he’d known as a child, the ones who’d come home different, who’d spent their days drinking and begging on the streets where he’d hawked papers.

He squeezed her shoulder and tried to hold her gaze, but it kept slipping past him. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You take the ride to think things through, and we’ll discuss when the little ones are elsewhere.” 

“Elsewhere,” Katherine nodded, absently rubbing Theo’s stomach. “Okay.”

Ellie looked up at her mother and, seeing that Katherine’s anger had ebbed, laid down on the car’s upholstery so that her head was resting on Katherine’s thigh. She watched Katherine’s face carefully for a reaction, and, seeing none, popped her thumb in her mouth and began to suck. 

“Oh, Ellie,” Katherine sighed, releasing a hand from Theodore and starting to rub Eleanor’s back. “I’m sorry I was so angry in there, and I’m sorry that I scared you. That was wrong of me, and I apologize.” She felt Eleanor nod against her thigh and gave a small almost-smile. “Do you forgive me?”

“Yes,” Ellie mumbled around her thumb.

“Thank you, muffin,” Katherine said, rubbing gently up and down, soothing Eleanor into sleep. After a few minutes she added, “I love you, you know.”

Ellie made some incoherent noises, and Charlie leaned forward to see Ellie’s face. “She’s out like a light, Kath.”

“Good,” Katherine said, and let her own eyes drift shut.

 

*

 

When they got back to Katherine’s apartment, she gasped. “Charlie! You’re late for work! I’m so sorry, go, catch the cab, I’ll pay—”

Charlie interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” 

“But your boss—”

He gave a lopsided smile. “I’ll tell him that Ralph and Joe Pulitzer’s sister had an emergency and I was asked to cover.” 

She let out a breath. “Oh. Right. There are perks to working for my brothers.” She thought for a moment and then gave a decisive nod. “Okay. Tell me how to get in touch with JoJo, and as soon as I’ve done that, I’ll call them to straighten things out.”

“JoJo?” Charlie said, confused.

“ _Please_ ,” Katherine urged. “It’s important.”

“He shovels coal at the railyards,” Charlie mused, “So I guess you should try to get a hold of his foreman? He’s with Pullman, if that helps.”

“Railyards. Pullman. Got it, thanks,” Katherine said, running into the living room. “And then I’ll talk to Ralph.”

“Thanks,” he said, slowly squatting to take off Nicky’s shoes. “Hey, can you ask to have me for the whole day?” He called, hearing the click of her taking the receiver from its stand. “I have a feeling you’re gonna need help with whatever plan you cooked up on the ride home.”

“You’re a mindreader,” Katherine called, before switching into her business voice. 

“Nicky-boy,” Charlie cooed, one ear tuned to Kath’s conversation, “You want that cookie now?” 

Nicholas nodded, and Theo’s eyes lit up. “Ee-oh eat!”

“Okay, then,” Charlie said, straightening. “You boys go sit at the table, an’ I’ll getcha each a cookie.”

Theo immediately ran into the kitchen to stand by his highchair, but Nicholas dawdled. He tugged Charlie’s hand and pointed down the hall to the nursery, where Katherine had laid a sleeping Eleanor down for an early morning nap. “Ewwy? Ewwy too?” 

Charlie smiled. “Ellie’s sleeping, kiddo, but it was sweet of ya ta think of her. She c’n have a cookie when she wakes up, okay?” 

Nicky nodded reluctantly and pushed himself to his feet. 

By the time Katherine returned, she looked decidedly less frantic, and the boys were munching happily on oatmeal cookies that Rosie had brought by two days ago. Unconvinced by Charlie’s reassurances about Eleanor getting a cookie later, Nicholas had set a crumbled fistful of his cookie aside for his sister. As soon as he saw his mother, he laid his hand protectively over the scattered pieces and said, “No, no, Mommy. Dis Ewwy cookie. Mommy no eat.” 

“Okay, Bug,” Katherine said, completely unfazed. “I understand. I won’t eat it.”

“Ewwy cookie,” he repeated sternly, his chubby cheeks full of food.

“It’s Ellie’s cookie,” Katherine repeated. “Not Mommy’s. I won’t eat it.”

Nicholas nodded, satisfied, and returned to his snack.

Charlie moved his crutch out of Katherine’s way and raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Two things,” she said, sinking into an empty chair. “First one was more urgent, but that’s handled.”

“JoJo?”

Katherine nodded. “That horrible woman can lead us to Jack. If she tries to warn her son before the ransom comes due—and I think she will, I think we scared her this morning—then we can follow her to him and follow him to Jack.” 

“I still don’t see where JoJo comes in,” Charlie said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, we need someone she doesn’t recognize,” Katherine explained, leaning over to hand Theo a rattle and a stuffed animal to play with in his high chair. “So it can’t be you, and it can’t be me. Of course, it couldn’t be me, anyway,” she said, making a face as she rubbed her stomach. “It also has to be someone who’d recognize Chambers without Chambers recognizing them.” 

“Ohhh,” Charlie said. “Good thinking, Kath. JoJo musta been about ten when Chambers split." He laughed. "He’s grown a beard an’ at least eighteen inches since then; no way Chambers'll peg 'im.” 

“That’s what I thought,” she said, running a hand over Nicholas’ ruffled brown hair. “Perfect man for the job.”

“So you got a hold of him, then?”

“Mhmm,” she said, grimacing slightly. “He’s heading over to that witch’s apartment now. He’s agreed to watch her wherever she goes, and he'll send word as soon as she meets with Chambers.” 

“Shouldn’t we have two men watchin’ her?” Charlie asked, furrowing his brow. “One ta send word, one ta keep tailin’ ‘em?”

Katherine’s eyes widened. “You’re right. I’ll call…”

“Romeo,” Charlie said firmly. “He’s quick as a cat, that one. Perfect messenger.”

“Great,” Katherine said, springing to her feet and going to arrange it. “And then as soon as my mother arrives to watch the kids, you and I are going to City Records to see Specs. I’ve already made an appointment and told him we want all of the information he has on Ned Chambers.” She paused in the doorway and smiled, a vicious glint in her eye. “Did you notice that woman let her precious scumbag’s first name slip?” 

Charlie laughed in admiration as Katherine left, and then he looked over at Nicky, who was eating the final bite of his cookie. “How did your mama set that all up so fast?” Nicky shrugged and then glared at Theo, who was banging his rattle against the side of his high chair and yelling nonsense words. Noting Nicky’s displeasure, Charlie took the rattle from Theo and gave him the stuffed animal instead. “Your mama’s a whirlwind, Nicky, didja know that?”

Nicholas nodded solemnly and licked crumbs off of his small hand as Theo gabbled away at his teddy bear. “Unca Chawwy no eat,” Nicky said, wagging a fat index finger. “Ewwy cookie.”

Charlie grinned. “I know, kiddo.”

 

*

 

Katherine couldn’t sleep. She knew she should try, that if JoJo and Romeo had news then they’d send it straight over, and the boys on duty –Elmer and Albert, she thought– would knock and wake her up, and she’d be better off rested, because once this got going then who knew when she’d be able to sleep again, but… she couldn’t. Her mind kept running through the documents she’d read that afternoon, a constant loop of crimes and arrest dates and summaries of time served… It was good to know more about Chambers, she supposed, even though nothing on file had given a hint as to where he might be holed up now... Yes, it was good to know, because knowledge was power, and power was… Well, power corrupted you, is what it did, but that wasn’t the point, was it? What _was_ the point, though? She felt her eyes falling closed and slipped into sleep, wrapping her arms tightly around Eleanor, who was snoring softly beside her.

_Bam bam bam!_

Katherine shot up in bed, momentarily disoriented. She felt the wetness of the bed around her and sighed, wishing she could convince Eleanor to wear diapers at night again, and then she snapped herself away from the thought and ran to the front door. She wrenched it open to see Romeo, sweat dripping down his forehead, flanked by Elmer and Albert.

The news tumbled out in a breathless rush. “We know where Jack is!”

Katherine yelped and turned to grab her keys from the hook by the door, only to see Nicky running down the hallway at top speed. “Daddy?” He called, stumbling to a stop in front of Romeo, Elmer, and Albert. He pushed them out of the way and stepped out onto the landing, searching for his father. “Daddy!” He wailed, sitting down in the hall and beginning to cry. 

“Shh, Bug,” Katherine said, picking him up and carrying him back inside, planning to hand him off to her mother, who was sleeping on a cot in the living room. 

“Um, Kath,” Albert ventured, his usual swagger completely absent from his voice. “Are you… are you okay?”

“What?” She whirled around to face the boys, utterly bewildered. Why were they asking her that _now?_ They had no time for chit-chat; they had to go rescue Jack! “Of course I’m okay; I’m better than I’ve been in ages! Why?”

“Uh,” Elmer said, a little weakly, “Your dress. The back is all red.”

 Katherine drew her eyebrows together, not understanding. Yellow, maybe, from Eleanor’s bedwetting, but red? Absurd. Then her heart stuttered and her body turned to ice. “ _No_ ,” she gasped, holding Nicholas sideways under one arm while tugging the skirt of her nightgown around with the other. She choked out a heart-rending cry when she saw it was soaked in scarlet. “No,” she said again, dropping the skirt and staring at her left hand, which was now stained with blood. “Go on,” she ordered, or tried to—her voice was too weak to sound anything but terrified. “Save him,” she said, feeling her hysteria rising. “Bring him home.” 

“We could—” Romeo offered, taking a step forward.

“No!” Katherine snapped. “No, I—go get Jack. Please. I’m fine. I—my mother is here, she’ll help me with this, I just—I can’t come with you, I—” She let out a sob and sank to the ground, setting Nicholas gently on the wooden floorboards of the hallway. “Help my husband.” 

All three boys –no, not boys; they were men now, Katherine knew that– nodded, and Albert shut the door slowly, quietly. 

Katherine clutched at her middle and cried, feeling horribly guilty and scared and alone. She knew that Nicky shouldn’t be watching this, that she had to pull herself together for his sake, even through her tears she could see the terrified expression on his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming and her heart wouldn’t stop breaking and how could she live through this, how could she wake up in the morning and soldier on, how could… 

“Kitty!” Kate Pulitzer dashed into the hallway, froze at what she saw, and then surged forwards, enveloping her daughter in a hug.

“Mama,” Katherine wailed, her hands scrabbling against her mother’s arms, trying to push her away and pull her closer all at once, “Mama, the baby, there was a baby…”

“I know, my love,” Kate soothed, pressing closer, heedless of the bright red blood that was eagerly lapping at the edge of her own nightclothes. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry…” She stroked Katherine’s hair and murmured words of reassurance as she helped Katherine down the hall and into the bathroom before returning to lock the front door and comfort Nicholas.

“You’re okay, my sweet one,” she crooned, kissing Nicky’s hair and rocking him side to side on her hip. “Heaven knows who else in this family is okay right now, but…” She sighed and swayed, calming him until he could be brought back to his bed. “Sleep tight, little man,” she said, tucking him in and sitting by his side until he finally stopped tossing and drifted off. “Someone in this family needs to, and it’s not going to be me or your parents. Not tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm sorry. I think it's important to normalize really sad and isolating experiences, such as miscarriage, and since current data holds that up to 1/4 of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage, I wanted to bring that into play here. I especially wanted to address this issue because I'm not dealing with childhood deaths and infant mortality in this series, even though those tragedies affected most families in this time period. With as many pregnancies as my characters are having, a miscarriage is statistically likely to happen to one of them. Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester, and Katherine is right around that 12 week mark in this story. Research doesn't support the idea that increased stress induces miscarriages, _potentially_ aside from *major* life stressors such as the death of a loved one. You can make your own judgment on whether the stress of Katherine's current situation caused her to miscarry or not; I'm not as interested in that as I am in how she copes with it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys attempt a rescue mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW lots of cursing, gun violence, death, blood, violence, injuries, etc. 
> 
> .

David skidded to a stop outside a grimy brick building, his arms windmilling for balance. “Where is he?” 

“Basement, we think,” Romeo said. “JoJo followed ‘em both downstairs.”

“Then why the hell are you all waitin’ out here?” David grabbed the front of Romeo’s dress shirt and shook him. “We need to be in there to stop ‘em from hurtin’ ‘Jack any more than they already have!”

“Whoa, Davey,” Albert said, laying a hand on David’s shoulder. “Calm down, wouldja? We can’t all barrel in there at once; it might spook ‘em. We gotta know what we’s dealin’ with first!”

Most of David’s brain knew that this was the smart choice, the safe choice, the thing he would normally be telling the other boys to do, but the loud part of his brain was screaming at him that this was _Jack_ , it was Jack in there, and there was no damn way he’d let his best friend sit in this hellhole one second longer than necessary. “Geroff me!” He snapped, shoving Albert’s hand away and wrenching the front door open. It was some sort of lodging house, he thought, but clearly one that had seen better days. _Flophouse_ , he thought. _Jack’s been stuck in a fuckin’ derelict flophouse_. _Near on ten days in a fuckin’ flophouse with a fuckin’ madman an’ fuck if I ain’t gonna get him out right now, I—_

He shook his head and dashed inside. He looked wildly around for the door to the basement, finding it only when JoJo came bursting out.

“Chambers has a gun!” JoJo gasped out. “Whadda we do, he’s got—”

Davey pushed past him and started moving down the stairs as quickly as he could, trying to find the balance between stealth and speed.

“Davey!” He heard JoJo hiss from upstairs. “You can’t go down there, he’s got a gun, he’ll…”

JoJo’s voice faded as Davey went deeper into the earth. He gave a slight shiver as he felt the temperature change and hoped against hope that he’d make it in time. If Chambers had a gun then he was probably going to use it, and if Davey wasn’t there before it went off, then… _No, don’t even think it, Jacobs; just get there. Get there_ now!

He nearly tripped as the steps ended abruptly, but instead he just scuffed his shoe and braced his hand against the basement wall, his skin scraping against the stone. He could hear voices now, a man’s and a woman’s, and they were arguing, and he ran off again, down a corridor that—was that light at the end? Yes, it was, and surely this had to be where Jack was being held, so just be careful, Jacobs, no sudden moves… He slowed up and tiptoed closer, trying to figure out what was going on and what he was dashing into. 

“…about ta be set f’r life, Ma!”

Davey bit his lip. That was a man’s voice. Chambers, probably; it certainly wasn’t Jack. Davey inched closer, hugging the wall. A female voice spoke next.

“I know, Ned, I know, but I’m tellin’ ya, ya can’t wait another day! That woman is comin’, baby. I ain’t never seen her like, she—” 

“I got nothin’ if I ain’t got that money!” Chambers roared, and Davey winced. 

“You got your life an’ your freedom!” The woman pleaded. “Ain’t that enough? Ya can try somethin’ else, ya c’n get some honest work elsewhere—they’s always needin’ fact’ry workers an’ dockhands, or, or you could work in the slaughterhouse, or—” 

“Shaddap,” Chambers said, and Davey heard a cracking sound and a woman’s cry. “This is my one shot ta get us a better life, an’ you want me ta give it up on account o’ your _nerves?_ ” 

“They ain’t nerves!” The woman protested, and Davey was impressed in spite of himself. No way he’d have talked back to this lunatic. _You watch yourself, Jacobs; you’re here to take his moneymaker away from him,_ he reminded himself. _Hell of a lot riskier than backtalking him. He catches you, he’s givin’ you more’n a slap._

The woman continued. “This gal means business, I swears it. If ya kill him ‘fore she gets here, ain’t no one c’n tie ya to the crime. They ain’t got nothin’ on ya. We c’n move down south, or maybe out west, or even go ta Canada—we c’n get outta here an’ try again somewhere else, baby. Okay? But if you wait an’ she finds us, we’s both goin’ ta jail. Or if ya lets him go an’ he rats us out? Also back in jail.” Davey heard a whimper. “An’ I can’t let that happen ta ya, Ned. Not again.”

“I ain’t never gonna be in jail again anyway,” Chambers objected. “I’s gonna be rich! You an’ me both, Ma. I’s gonna buy you them fancy dresses an’ a big house, just like I always said I would!” 

“I don’t _need_ those!” The woman pleaded. “I c’n live without those, baby. I can’t live without my boy. Just shoot ‘im now an’ have done with it. We c’n start over somewhere else. Please, Ned, _please_!” 

There was a long silence after that, broken only by the sound of someone coughing. 

David swallowed hard and inched his head slightly out from the protection of the wall to see what was happening. It took everything in him not to burst right into the room as he took in the scene before him: A middle-aged woman clinging desperately to Chambers’ left arm, Chambers standing with his legs akimbo, holding a gun in his right hand, and… and Jack.

Jack, brave, proud, defiant Jack, sitting tied to a wooden chair. His clothes were soiled, his arms were bruised and bound behind him, and the entire right side of his face was covered in old, crusted blood. Davey could tell that he was trying to hold on to some shred of dignity, that he was sitting up as straight as his injured body would allow, that he was trying to stare down his captors and show them that he wasn’t afraid, that they hadn’t won, that he was a fighter who’d never give up, but. But. But the awkward slump of his shoulders, the rank smell of his body, and the hitch in his breath said otherwise. The stubborn look in his one good eye wasn’t enough to offset the damage these monsters had inflicted. He was well and truly beaten, and he knew it just as well as they did. 

 _Oh, Jack, what have they done to you?_  

“Please,” Jack said, his voice coming out rusty from cracked and bleeding lips. “Please—”

“I’m gonna kill ya either way, Kelly,” Chambers snapped, raising his arm to point the gun straight at Jack. “I made up my mind already, so don’t waste your breath beggin’ me ta spare ya.” 

“No, it’s not that,” Jack rasped. “I just wanna say goodbye to my family. Please. Lemme write ‘em a note.” 

Chambers laughed. “Buddy, you ain’t gonna be writin’ nothin’. I made sure o’ that. You took my livelihood; I took yours.” 

Jack took in a breath that was half sob and half gasp. “I know, but I can’t just leave ‘em. Please. It’s a last request from a dead man, Ned.” He turned his head slowly, painfully. “Mrs. Chambers. _Please_. Lemme scratch ‘em somethin’ with my left hand. Please, just… lemme say a few words, just a li’l somethin’… Just so’s they know… Just so’s they’ll always know I loved ‘em.” Jack coughed again, and David shuddered at the rattle of his lungs.

Chambers lowered the gun and exchanged a look with his mother, debating Jack’s last request. David took advantage of the moment to shift a little bit further forwards, hoping Jack would see him. 

“Please,” Jack said again, and Davey had never heard him sound so broken.

“No,” Chambers said finally, raising the gun. “Then they’d know I done it. Ma’s right. You ain’t my ticket outta here no more; all you is now is a prison sentence.” 

Jack raised his head. Maybe he wanted to look death in the eye, maybe he wanted Chambers and his mother to face what they were doing, maybe he wanted to know when Chambers pulled the trigger, one last piece of information before nothing mattered anymore. Maybe he didn’t have a reason at all. Regardless, that simple act was his salvation, because when he raised his hazel eyes—those eyes that Katherine loved so much, those eyes that could flash from mischief to determination to joy in half a second, those eyes that he’d inherited from his father and passed down to his youngest son—when he lifted those eyes, he saw David. 

Jack let out a wordless cry, maybe of anguish, maybe of hope, and Chambers cocked the gun. His mother crossed her arms and stared Jack down. David jerked his head to the side, and Jack gave the slightest nod. Then David took a deep breath, and everything happened so fast that at first he wasn’t sure it had happened at all.

“Goodbye, Kelly,” Chambers said, and pulled the trigger. At the very same instant, Jack flung his entire weight sideways, and David launched himself forward, tackling Chambers to the ground. David heard the sharp report of the gun, the sickening crack of Jack’s head on the floor, the whoosh of the air that was pressed out of Chambers’ lungs, and the scream of Chambers’ mother. Then came the scrape of the gun skidding out of Chambers’ hand and across the floor, the roar of the angry man pinned beneath David, and yells from upstairs as the whole assembly of former newsies began clattering down to the basement.

David leapt off of Chambers to grab the gun, but Chambers’ mother was faster, racing forward and stooping to pick it up before Davey even had a chance to take a full step. “Don’t move!” She barked.

David froze immediately, his hand stretched out for the weapon, his chest heaving.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” She snapped, her voice crisp.

“Okay,” he said, sounding utterly calm. “Okay, I won’t move.”

“Jack! Davey!” A passel of men raced into the doorway to the basement room—Albert, Elmer, Romeo, JoJo, Race, Specs, Finch, and Spot, with Charlie bringing up the rear.

“Stop!” Chambers’ mother moved the gun from David to wave it at the men clustered behind him. “Don’t take another step!” They obeyed instantly, frightened into stillness. “Ned, how many bullets left in this gun?” She asked, training the weapon back on Davey.

“Five,” Chambers groaned from his position on the floor, where he was hunched over in pain, nursing what looked to be a broken arm. 

“Five,” Mrs. Chambers repeated, looking at the ten men in front of her, and the despair in her voice gave Davey a flash of hope. “It ain’t enough.” She shook her head and took a shuddering breath. “Someone’ll tell, Ned. One of ‘em is gonna make it out an’ tell.” 

“Ma,” Chambers looked up at his mother. “Ma, what’re you—”

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said. The basement was silent, all eyes trained on her. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “I just… I can’t let you go back ta jail.”

Chambers’ eyes widened and Davey heard multiple screams—was he joining in? He wasn’t sure—as the crack of gunfire split the air once, and then twice, and Chambers and his mother crumpled to the ground. 

 _“Jack!”_ Davey paused just long enough to make sure that Chambers and his mother weren’t going to be coming after him, and then he sprinted to Jack’s side. “Jack, oh, fuck, Jack, please be okay, please—” he felt tears sliding down his cheeks as he cradled Jack’s head in his lap and tried uselessly to wipe the worst of the grime from his friend’s face. “Jack. Jack! Say somethin’, okay? Jack?” He patted Jack’s cheek in an attempt to rouse his friend, accomplishing nothing but causing Jack’s head to loll to the side. David let out an agonized cry. “ _Dammit,_ Jack, don’t do this ta me!” He stroked Jack’s forehead, and his fingers came away bloody. “Fuck, Jack, fuck fuck _fuck_ , just—Jack, _please!_ Please, I—please be okay…” He bent his head and scrubbed his thumbs under Jack’s eyes, wanting to get rid of the filth and the blood and the bone-weariness that were making Jack look more dead than alive. He couldn’t be dead, though, he just looked it, that was all, he couldn’t—

“Hey, Davey,” Specs said, laying a hand on David’s shoulder. “We got him. He’s okay.”

“ _Lookit_ ‘im, Specs!” Davey growled. “He’s the farthest thing from okay!”

“Naw, _Chambers_ is the farthest thing from okay,” Spot drawled, kicking at the corpse. “Jack’s just…”

“Wretched,” JoJo said quietly, squatting down by Jack’s legs and starting to untie them.

“He’s alive, though,” Specs said, pulling out a pocketknife and starting to work at the knots that were binding Jack’s wrists behind the chair. “I checked ‘is pulse just now, an’ it’s slow but steady.” 

“Dammit, Specs,” Davey said, swiping an arm across his face to dry his tears, which had already stopped. “They nearly… they almost… They just about _killed_  ‘im!”

“So that really was a gunshot we heard, then?” Race asked.

“Yeah,” Davey said, still focused on Jack, on keeping his head cushioned. “Yeah. Jack threw himself outta the way, but his head…” Davey gagged slightly. “The sound of it was… Well, it was…” He restarted. “It all went so fast after that, an’ he’s just been lyin’ there, an’ I… I wasn’t sure…”

“He’s gonna be fine,” Charlie said, coming up behind Davey, and even though Davey knew they were empty words, he latched onto them anyway.

“Yeah?” He asked, ashamed of how scared he sounded.

“Yeah,” Charlie said firmly. He turned to the basement door, where most of the men were still standing, frozen in shock. “Go call a doctor, Romeo. Albert, you get the police.” 

Both men nodded and dashed up the stairs, and Crutchie turned back to Davey, whose hands were fluttering uncontrollably across Jack’s bruised skin. “We got ‘im back, Dave,” he said, laying a steadying hand on the back of David’s neck. “Focus on that f’r now, okay? We’ll deal with…” Charlie’s eyes flicked to Jack’s hands, which Specs had finally untied and was now gently moving to Jack’s sides, and anger flashed across his face. He set his jaw, though, and finished his thought. “We’ll deal with the rest later. Main thing is he’s alive, an’ he’s safe. He’ll need some time ta heal up, but Jack’s Manhattan. Toughest borough in the toughest city. He’s gonna be okay.” 

It was a sign of how worried Spot was that he didn’t make even a token protest at that.

David shook his head, struggling not to laugh and cry and scream all at once. “I dunno, Charlie. I dunno. Lookit his right hand, yeah? His drawin’ hand.” Davey reached out a trembling hand and let it fall uselessly by his side, unable to touch the mess in front of him. Jack’s left hand was fine, yes, but his right hand was a bloody pulp. His fingers were twisted and mangled, and the shredded skin of his palm was oozing pus. David wrenched his gaze away and stared up at Charlie. “How’s he gonna cope, huh?” He demanded, as if Charlie could possibly answer that. “How’s he gonna manage with a hand like that?”

“They’s gonna clean it up at the hospital, Dave,” Race objected. “Ain’t gonna look like that f’r long.” 

“That ain’t what I meant, an’ you knows it!” Davey snapped, and Race shied backwards. David was too angry to face anyone else right now, so he dropped his head back over Jack’s and smoothed Jack’s wayward hair. Looking down at his friend, at his deathly pale skin and shadowed eyes, David felt his throat catch. “I’m sorry, Jackie,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack recuperates in a hospital, and Katherine keeps watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> TW for sadness and injuries and descriptions of those injuries and a doozy of a nightmare and honestly at this point if you've been able to handle the previous stuff you'll be able to handle the rest of it, you know what you're in for here

Katherine had decided to switch places with her mother and sleep on the cot in the living room so that Eleanor could finish out the night in bed with an adult who could actually be there for her. An adult who didn’t ruin everything she touched. An adult who wasn’t wracked with guilt and fear and lightning-quick anger. An adult who wasn’t killing her own child.

Katherine lay on the mattress, gritting her teeth and flipping back and forth between waiting for the sun to rise and hoping it never came. She took a ragged breath and tried not to cry; this was nearly unbearable. It wasn’t so much the physical pain of it –she’d had two or three periods worse than this– but rather the knowledge that each sharp twist in her stomach was a confirmation that her body was rejecting her baby, that it was refusing to care for her unborn little one, that it had decided to kill the son or daughter she’d already begun to dream about and plan for. 

“How long will this last, Mama?” She’d asked, trembling against the bathroom door.

Kate sighed. “At least a day. Likely much longer. You will have to steel yourself, Katherine. Remember whose you are and what you are destined for.”

Katherine nodded, too numb to cry, and sank down onto the edge of the tub, leaving her mother to change the blood-soaked sheets and crawl into the big bed with Eleanor.

She wasn’t too numb to cry now, though, and so it was that when Specs knocked on the door, a huge grin on his face, she answered him with tear-stained cheeks and bleary eyes.

“We got ‘im out, Kath! He’s free!” Specs crowed, then quickly faltered in the face of Katherine’s obvious distress. Thinking maybe her silence was due to the fact that Jack wasn’t with Specs right there and then, he continued, “Uh, he’s been roughed up some, so they’s got him at the hospital f’r now, but… you c’n go see ‘im any time ya likes, Kath.”

He ventured a smile and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “He’s in real good hands, too; Davey told the doctors about how you was a Pulitzer, an’ I gotta say, they was real impressed; said you could visit anytime an’ gave ‘im a private room an’ everythin’!” Katherine wiped at the tears on her cheeks and Specs bit his lip, trying to think of something that would cheer Katherine up. “So, uh, he’s asleep, but the doctors say that’s good f’r healin’ an’ all, so it’s a good thing, really…” When Katherine still looked worn and wan, Specs scratched at his curls and asked, “Do you, uh, do you want a hug?”

Katherine nodded, and Specs enveloped her in a tight, warm embrace. He was taller than Jack, and so Katherine found herself crying into the front of his shirt instead of his shoulder, but it was a good feeling nevertheless. “Thanks, Specs,” she said between shuddering breaths, and he smiled fondly.

“ ‘Course. Anytime.” He ruffled her hair as she pulled away and asked, “So, d’ya wanna go see ‘im now, then?”

She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. She looked up at the ceiling to try to blink away the rest of her tears and said faintly, “Give me ten minutes to get ready?” 

“Take as much time as you like,” Specs said, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall. “I’s here ta help ya, not rush ya.”

“Thanks,” she said, and went to pack a bag.

 

*

 

Katherine listened numbly to the doctor’s explanation of what was wrong with her husband and felt as if her world were tilting sideways. She caught bits and pieces of the doctor’s speech—malnourishment, broken hand, probable concussion, lacerated torso, severe contusions, dehydration—but the words slipped away as soon as he’d finished saying them. She looked to Davey, her face blank, hoping he’d understand that she was asking him a question, and he nodded and flashed a notepad at her. He’d brief her again later, when she was capable of hearing it.

“…see him?” The doctor concluded, and Katherine nodded. “Right this way, please, Mrs. Pulitzer.”

“It’s Kelly,” she said faintly. “Pulitzer was my maiden name. I’m Katherine Kelly.” 

The doctor nodded and escorted her up the stairs and down several hallways, finally opening a door and inclining her head to motion her inside.

Katherine took one step into the room and froze. “Jack,” she whispered, her hands flying to her face to cup around her nose and mouth. “Oh, sweetheart.” She squeezed her eyes briefly shut and then walked slowly to the bed, torn between wanting to race to his side and wanting to flee homewards. “Darling,” she said, bending over to kiss the unbandaged side of his face, “It’s me. Your Katherine.” She pressed her lips just below his eye, tears pricking at the feeling of his unshaven cheek scratching against her chin. She pulled back to run her hand over the unfamiliar facial hair and forced herself to examine him from head to toe. 

His head and right hand were swathed in bandages, and she could see isolated wrappings and dressings on his torso and legs. They’d removed the ragged, filthy clothes he’d been wearing when he arrived, leaving him in hospital-issue underclothes that made him look oddly small and out of place. Lying there in the sterile hospital room, draped in a thin white sheet, it was all too easy for Katherine to imagine him as dead, to transpose him to the morgue, to drown in all the might-have-beens and nearly-weres. 

 “You’re going to be alright,” she told him, uncertain if it was a question, a command, or a promise. She watched his chest rise and fall, wanting to rage and cry at how even these shallow breaths were raspy and labored. “You _are,”_ she insisted, sinking into the chair by the bed and reaching out to hold his left hand. She stroked his knuckles with her thumb and focused her attention on the texture of him, on the olive undertone of his skin, on the blocky square of his thumbnail and the golden wink of his wedding ring. “For better, for worse,” she whispered, leaning to kiss his hand. “Don’t you ever scare me like this again, Jack Kelly. Don’t you _dare_.”

She took a ragged breath of her own and laid her head on the side of the bed, the halo of her curls pressing up against the sheet that covered his thigh. “I love you so much, Jack. So damn much. So much that… that… Well, I can’t even tell you how much I missed you, I… I mean, these last nine days were…” She shook her head and tried again, injecting a cheery note to her voice. “You’re still utterly impossible, did you know that? The most impossible boy I ever met.” She attempted to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “Oh, _Jack,”_ she said, finally breaking down into unrestrained tears. “If you leave me again I’ll kill you.”

 

*

 

Katherine sat by his bedside for hours, holding his hand and counting his breaths. She dozed off just as the sun began to rise, unaware that one newsie or another had been keeping vigil outside the room just as she had been keeping vigil inside it. She startled awake when a nurse came in to check on Jack and managed to exchange a few pleasantries as the woman took his pulse, checked his temperature, and listened to his lungs. 

“I’m going to change his dressings now,” the nurse said. “Would you mind stepping out for a moment, please? Perhaps you’d like to go get some breakfast for yourself, freshen up a bit?” 

“I’d rather stay,” Katherine said, even though her head felt like it was full of angry bees and her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” the nurse said, more firmly this time. “It won’t be pretty, and I also need to change his catheter.”

“Oh,” Katherine said. “I… alright.” That revelation changed things; she doubted Jack would appreciate her watching him be so helpless, and she didn’t think she wanted to see him that way, either. “Is twenty minutes enough? Can I come back then?”

“If you like, Mrs. Kelly,” the nurse said, starting to pull out the supplies she would need and placing them on a tray by Jack’s bed. “But he won’t be awake anytime soon,” she added, meeting Katherine’s eyes sympathetically. “The doctors gave him a fair amount of morphine to help him sleep off the worst of the damage, so you have time to go home and shower, eat a little something.” The nurse checked the chart at the foot of Jack’s bed and hummed. “Probably even longer, to be honest. He has a lot of healing to do; I wouldn’t be surprised if his body keeps him out for a day or so even without the morphine.” 

“A _day?”_ Katherine swallowed hard. 

“He needs rest,” the nurse said calmly. “And I’d say that you probably do, too. I’d recommend that you do that now, while you still can, because he’ll likely need a fair bit of care when he comes home. Go get something to eat, Mrs. Kelly; he won’t know you’re gone.” 

“Mmm,” Katherine said, noncommittal, turning to leave the room. “Thank you.” 

She knew it was stupid, but she was back in twenty minutes.

 

*

 

Katherine was reading a book that Davey had brought by when she heard a noise from the bed. Her eyes flew to her husband. “Jack?”

He wasn’t awake yet; it was just a syllable of sleep-talk, a restless toss of the head, a rustle of the sheets. Still, Katherine set her book aside and shifted closer. He lay still for a minute, and then he began a stream of incomprehensible muttering that grew louder and louder until he was practically yelling. Katherine caught at his hand, stroked his cheek, whispered soothing words in his ear, but her touch only inflamed him further—soon he was thrashing from side to side, kicking at the sheet, jerking away from her and trying wildly to slap and punch the invisible demons that were torturing his dreams.

“No, no, no, no!” He yelled, his eyes flying open and landing sightlessly on Katherine. “Get away! Go _away!”_

“Katherine?” Charlie asked, poking his head into the door. “What—”

“Jack!” she said, ignoring Charlie as she tried to catch Jack’s wrists and keep him from hurting himself further, subjecting herself to a series of slaps. “Jack, wake up! You’re safe, you’re okay, it’s—” 

He screamed and wrenched himself out of her grasp, the force of his movement causing him to twist and bang his ribs against the bedrail.

“Nurse!” Charlie called, leaving the room and moving down the hallway as quickly as he could. “Someone, help!”

Katherine backed up against the wall of the room, clutching her middle, watching Jack devolve into a madman, unable to save her husband from a waking nightmare even worse than the ones he’d had before they were married. “Jackie,” she begged, “Please, darling, please…”

Three nurses rushed into the room, followed closely by Charlie, who beelined for Katherine and hugged her close. Two of the nurses held Jack down while the third readied a syringe. The unexpected touch ripped an agonized cry from Jack’s throat as he arched off the bed, trying desperately to escape, his hazel eyes wide with terror. Katherine choked back a cry of her own as the nurse jabbed the needle into Jack’s arm and depressed the plunger, and then, with a speed Katherine found disturbing, Jack’s eyelids fluttered shut and he slumped back onto the mattress. 

“Get the straps,” the head nurse ordered, and the shortest nurse nodded.

“You can’t strap him down!” Katherine protested, breaking free of Charlie’s arms. “You saw what happens when someone touches him—he’ll be absolutely terrified if he’s tied to the bed!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kelly,” the head nurse said briskly, unrolling a leather strap and starting to fasten it around the bed rail and Jack’s forearm. “I’m sure you’re right, but the alternative is worse. He did himself some serious harm just now, and we can’t have that happen again.” 

“But—” Katherine began, but she stopped when the nurse lowered the sheet to show blood seeping through the bandages on Jack’s ribs and lower abdomen. “Alright,” she said weakly, trying not to cry. “Okay.”

 

*

 

**_11 days since Jack’s abduction_ **

Jack was mostly quiet until the following morning. Katherine had slept in the chair by his bed, startling awake at every moan he made in his sleep, on high alert for anything that might signal another oncoming nightmare. They had all been false alarms thus far, but that didn’t keep her nerves from being stretched near to snapping. She was sipping absently at a cup of coffee that Rosie had brought her when Jack coughed weakly and made a noise that made her look up at him, just to check. She wasn’t expecting him to be awake, not really, but this time he was. Or at least she thought he was… Oh! He _was!_ His eyes were open, and even though they were bleary, they seemed to be focusing on the real world, not the phantoms in his head. 

“Jack,” she breathed, her paperback novel falling to the floor with a smack. He flinched and whipped his head sideways, searching for the source of the noise. “Jack, darling, it’s me,” she said, scrambling to set her coffee aside and wrapping his left hand in hers. 

He looked up at her, his dusky hazel eyes roving across her face, trying to tell if she was real or not. “Ace?” His voice was rusty and thin, but it was him, it was Jack, and it was the most coherent thing he’d said since she’d gotten there nearly a day and a half ago.

Katherine beamed. “Yes, dear heart, it’s me. It’s your Ace,” she said tenderly, resting her right hand on his cheek.

His eyes fixed on hers, and he gave a weak smile. “Hi.”

“Hi back,” she said, feeling tears starting to slide down her cheeks. “You scared me. From now on, save the pranks for April Fool’s, okay?” 

Jack tried to laugh, but he groaned as the motion jostled his ribs.

“Shh, darling,” Katherine said quickly, squeezing his hand. “Are you thirsty?”

“Mmm,” he said, his eyes falling closed.

“Alright, then. Eyes open if you can manage it,” she said, holding a glass of water out for him. He tried to stretch to hold it, but there was firm pressure against his arms, keeping him from lifting either one. Katherine saw the flash of panic cross his face and saw him struggle to sit up, to see what had been done to him, to yell—“Shh, Jackie,” she said, hastening to soothe him, kicking herself for having forgotten the restraints. “You’re okay, sweetheart, I promise. You were moving in your sleep, so they had to…” She made a vague motion with her hand. “It’s to keep you from hurting yourself. But it’s temporary, and your arms are fine, okay? You’re fine. You’re safe. You’re okay. I promise.”

Jack whimpered and looked up at her, a question in his eyes.

“I’m making sure they take good care of you, and I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, and leaned to kiss his forehead. “Here, let me help you sit up, and then I’ll free up your left hand so you can have something to drink.”

He made another noise, which she took as an assent, and she undid the strap on his left arm so that he could hold the glass. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping he wouldn’t ask to have the right undone, too. She didn’t want him to know about that yet. She didn’t want to handle that now. They could figure it out later. One thing at a time. For now, propping him up against his pillows and letting him use his left hand was sufficient.

He reached for the drinking glass, and although he managed to grip and hold it well enough, lifting it to his mouth was too much work. He let out a grunt of frustration and flicked his eyes to Katherine, pleading for help.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, taking the cup from his hand and lifting it to his lips. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while, I’d imagine. You’re going to be weak for a few days, but that’s normal. You’ll be fit as a fiddle once you’ve had time to rest and recover.” 

He hummed and sipped, his eyes falling closed again as she stroked his hair.

He turned his head before the glass was empty, and Katherine sloshed some down his chin. “Sorry, love.” He gave her a half smile, and she laughed shakily back, testing the waters. “I guess we should’ve seen that coming, seeing as I’m always spilling things.”

He slowly raised his hand to rest on her forearm, although the effort seemed to exhaust him. “Macushla,” he said, his voice less croaky now that he’d gotten a drink. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said fiercely, setting the glass down on the side table and wiping her cheeks. “You’re the bravest man I know, Jack. You did everything you could. You saved Ellie. You came back to me. What more could I possibly want?” He looked as if he might break at the mention of their daughter, so Katherine lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss against his clammy skin. “I love you,” she said, feeling a sob catch in her throat. “Please don’t be sorry.”

Jack took a rattling breath and settled back into the pillows, his eyes still fixed on hers.

“I’m going to get you some food,” she said briskly, trying to hide the wobble in her voice. “You need to eat. Stay awake until I get back, alright?” 

“Mhmm,” he said, though his eyes were already drifting shut.

“I know, dear heart, I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But you need to get some food in you. Stay awake, Jack, darling; please. I won’t be gone even a minute.” 

He didn’t respond; he was already out.

 

*

 

Jack spent the next three days doing more of the same; sleeping for seemingly interminable stretches of time and waking just long enough to drink a glass of water or eat a few bites of food—he was rarely awake long enough to do both—before falling back asleep again. Newsies filed in and out during normal visiting hours, although Jack slept through most of that, too, just as he slept through the low arguments nearly everyone seemed to want to have with Katherine about how she needed to take care of herself, how she looked awful, how she should go home and sleep in her own bed… 

How were they supposed to know that the thought of going home to her own bed, slick with long-gone but still-remembered blood, was something she simply couldn’t face without her husband? Let them believe she was a faultlessly altruistic wife, so utterly devoted to Jack that she put him ahead of herself, ahead of her children, ahead of everything else in the world… Let them believe that, if they wanted to. She was being selfish, that was all, utterly selfish; she was unable to face her own guilt, her own failure, her own inability to carry her child to term. Facing her broken husband was easier, and so she did that instead.

 

*

 

No, that wasn’t right—she loved him. She loved him desperately, fiercely, fully, forever. She loved him so much that his slightest noises jolted her from sleep in case he needed something, so much that every second away from him made her faint with fear, so much that if she could have switched places with him, spared him this agony, she’d have done it in a heartbeat.

Her mother brought the children by every day, and Katherine met them in the hallway, giving hugs and reading books, kissing stuffed animals well again and nursing her youngest until he slept.

“Can we see Daddy today?” Eleanor asked, rocking back and forth on her delicate feet. She was still concerningly small for her age, but the pediatrician’s reassurances usually kept Katherine from worrying too much about something that none of them had any control over whatsoever.

“Not today, love, but soon,” Katherine promised, pulling her daughter’s unruly curls into bushy little pigtails and tying them up with blue and white ribbons.

“Is he tied to the ceiling like Uncle Waypot?” She asked, plucking nervously at the hem of her dress.

“No, darling,” Katherine soothed, remembering how worried Eleanor had been when they’d gone to visit Race in the hospital after a driving accident and seen his leg wrapped in a cast and in traction. “He’s just very tired, and we need to let him sleep.”

“He c’n sleep at home,” Eleanor pointed out. “He c’n take naps with Nicky.” 

Nicholas nodded enthusiastically. “Nicky sweep,” he said proudly. “Nicky an’ Daddy sweep alla time, lotsa Daddy sweep sweep sweep! Shh, Mommy, shh!”

“Soon,” Katherine said, kissing Nicholas on the cheek and settling Theo back in the baby carriage.

“Alright, children,” Kate Pulitzer said briskly, “It’s time to go to the park.”

Katherine’s heart ached at the sight of her children shuffling glumly away, but it ached more at the sound of her husband moaning softly in his hospital bed. “I’m here, love,” she said, hurrying back into the room and taking her place by his side. “Shh, Jack. You’re safe.”

 

*

 

**_Fifteen days since Jack’s abduction_ **

On the fifth day after his rescue, Jack woke with the dawn, the way he had when everything was normal. When they were all okay.

“Katherine?” He said, his eyes blinking slowly open, his voice neither dry nor cracked.

“Jack,” she said, startling awake. “Are you alright?”

He exhaled sharply in a way that showed her he wanted to laugh, even though he couldn’t quite manage it yet. “Fit as a fiddle what’s been thrown down a well,” he said, smiling to take the edge off of his words. His smile faded quickly as the sentence drew a gasp rather than a laugh from Katherine. “Love?”

Her eyes filled with tears that she tried to dash away before he saw them. “That’s the most you’ve said all at once since you got here,” she said, her face starting to crumple.

Jack blinked. “Really?”

She nodded and covered her face in her hands, starting to sob.

“Ace, macushla—that’s a good thing, ain’t it?” He wanted to reach out to comfort her, but the damn straps around his arms wouldn’t let him. “Don’t cry, angel, please don’t cry,” he said desperately, tugging uselessly at the straps. “Just—just stop cryin’ an’ undo these, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she croaked, and although she freed his arms, and then his legs, she did not, in fact, stop crying. 

“Darlin’,” he said, wincing as he levered himself slowly upright and reached both of his arms out for her. “ ‘S okay. C’mere, love. C’mere.” She collapsed into his arms and let him hug her as tightly as he could with his bruised body and weakened muscles. Her head fit onto his shoulder just like it was supposed to, and that made her cry even harder. “Shh,” he crooned. “I gotcha, sweetheart. ‘S okay, macushla. ‘S okay.” 

“I missed you so much,” she sobbed, trying not to press too hard against him. “I was so scared.” 

“Me too,” he admitted, running his left hand over her hair. “But thinkin’ of you an’ the kids got me through it. I had ta make it back ta you all,” he said, turning to kiss her temple. “I couldn’t just leave ya without sayin’ goodbye.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “You couldn’t. You can’t. Don’t ever do that to me, Jack Kelly. Don’t you dare.” 

“I would never,” he said, nosing at her ear. “Not in a million years.”

“If you do, I’ll kill you,” she warned. "You see if I don't."

He smiled against her skin. “You’d be right to,” he said, and she laughed.

He rocked her side to side, slowly, rhythmically, murmuring reassuring nothings to her, repeating the same phrases over and over again. 

She quieted after a while, then straightened suddenly. “Don’t ever leave me,” Katherine begged, and he was struck by the wild desperation in her eyes. This had hurt her more than he’d expected, he realized; he’d known she’d be upset, that she’d cry, that she’d need some time, but this? This was bigger. This went deeper. Something within her had cracked, and he wasn’t sure what. “Please, Jackie. Please…” She buried her face in his neck and sobbed, and he shushed her quietly, raising his right hand to rub her back.

Then he froze. His hand was completely encased in bandages, wrapped around and around and over and through until it was impossible to tell whether or not he had a hand at all. “A… Ace?” He said shakily. “How… how bad is my hand?” 

Katherine took a shuddering breath and tried to stop crying. “They don’t know for sure,” she said, her words coming unevenly between hiccupping breaths. “They said you could get some dexterity back with time, but… Are you sure you want to know now?”

“Yes,” Jack said, staring at the bandages, a lump in his throat.

Katherine sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “That devil cut off your pinky,” she said, barreling through the news in an attempt to prevent further tears. “And then he broke all of the bones in your hand.” 

“I remember that,” Jack said evenly, distantly, as if he were talking about a subpar silent film he’d seen with the kids. “He enjoyed it.” 

“The doctors did their best,” Katherine said, ignoring Jack’s last comment. If she processed that fully, she’d fall apart. “And while they don’t think you’ll ever regain the full range of movement, you will be able to use it. With time and practice, you’ll be able to grip a hairbrush and open doors again. Things like that.” 

“And drawing?” Jack asked slowly, eyes still glued to where his hand ought to be. 

“Unlikely,” Katherine whispered.

“Right,” Jack said, and stared up at the ceiling.

“There are exercises you can do to strengthen it and get some flexibility back,” Katherine said, petting his hair, nearly frantic in her efforts to reassure him. “The doctors will show us before you go home, and if you’re diligent about it, then—well, who knows what could happen, right? You’ve beaten the odds a million times, Jack; why should this be any different?”

Jack gave a brittle laugh that hurt his ribs just as much as it hurt Katherine’s heart. “I think I’ve about used up my luck,” he said, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “Can’t imagine there’s any miracles left for me.”

“Jack,” Katherine said, trying to stuff the words back in her mouth even as they spilled relentlessly forth. “There’s something else you should know.” She paused to gather herself, giving the illusion of waiting for a response from him, even though she wasn’t doing that at all. She wasn’t waiting for him; she couldn’t. She had to say this now, whether it was good timing or bad, whether he was listening or not—she had to tell him of this horror before it reamed her out and left her hollow, empty and aching and utterly bereft. “The baby,” she said, and Jack sucked in a sharp breath as he whipped around to face her. “I miscarried.”

The words fell like dark, round rocks in the middle of a lake, the weight of them squeezing the air from Jack and Katherine’s lungs, crushing their bones and pinning them beneath the water’s depths. 

“Oh, God,” Jack said, and Katherine knew this was no idle cry—this was a call to the Creator, an accusation, a plea, an admission of brokenness. This was her husband at the end of his rope, and he was unable to look her in the eye. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, stretching out a trembling hand. 

“I’m tired,” he said, and leaned back against the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, but he was silent.

For the first time in days, Jack's body wasn’t tugging him under, forcing him to rest, but he turned his head away from Katherine and closed his eyes. Here he was, finally alert, finally awake, and yet he would have given anything for the sweet release of morphine, for the pull of the drug that kept him from thinking, from speaking, from feeling. He had survived this terrible ordeal, and yet his child had not. Jack wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, to vent his rage and fury and heartbreak to the world. He was already old, far too old, and yet somehow he kept going, kept fighting, kept living... But his baby? His baby hadn’t drawn a single breath. His baby was gone. His baby was dead. Jack felt his heart clench and crack. First his art, and then his child… What else would he lose? What tragedy would be next? Would he be able to bear it? Did he even want to? 

And as he laid there, wretched and still and feigning sleep, Katherine cried and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben Franklin invented a flexible catheter in 1752! (They existed well before then, they just weren’t flexible. I don’t really want to consider the implications of that.)
> 
> Morphine began being used in the early 1800s; it was classified as a controlled substance in the US starting in 1914, the year this story is set.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Kellys try to adjust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: Two curse words, night terrors
> 
> .

Katherine linked her arm with Jack’s and laid a steadying hand on his back as they exited the cab. They both knew she was supporting him, not the other way around, but the linked arms gave Jack a little bit of cover, allowed him to imagine that he didn’t look as helpless as he knew himself to be. He was breathing heavily by the time they reached the fourth floor landing, but Katherine didn’t comment; instead, she brushed a hand over his newly-shaved cheek and kissed him.

“Welcome home,” she said softly, and he squeezed her hand. “I’ve told them to be careful, but you know how they are,” she added, pulling out her house keys.

Jack’s lips quirked. “Well, they’re Kellys, Ace. Careful’s not in their vocabulary.”

“Damn right it’s not,” she muttered, unlocking the door. “I suggest you brace yourself.”

She helped Jack up over the lip over the doorway and smiled as she heard the slap slap slap of Nicky’s bare feet racing through the living room.

“Daddy?” He called, even before he’d turned into the hallway. He rounded the corner at top speed, not even bothering to look for the father he didn’t expect to be there, but then halfway to the door he raised his head and saw Jack. Nicholas pulled up short in surprise, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the ground. His parents readied themselves for the wail that was sure to come, but Nicholas remained silent. He pushed himself up onto his knees and looked warily at Jack, then at Katherine, then at the floor. He blinked, stood, and stared at Jack, brown eyes wide and solemn, as if to confirm his father was truly there.

“Hi, Nicky,” Jack said, his voice warm and calm and rich with love. Only then did Nicholas burst into tears.

“Daddy!” He flew down the rest of the hallway, his chubby arms outstretched, moving faster by the second. Jack crouched down and spread his arms open for his son, letting Nicky slam into him at top speed.

“Oof!” Jack grunted, wrapping his arms around his boy and transitioning from a squat into a sit so that Nicky could clamber into Jack’s lap. “Nicholas, buddy, oh, Nicky, oh, my little Bug,” Jack murmured, swaying from side to side as Nicholas clung desperately around his ribcage. “Oh, Nicky. I missed you, _a thaisce_. I missed you so much.”

Nicky cried and clung and cried some more, and the commotion woke both Eleanor and Theo, who’d been taking the mid-morning naps that the older two children had supposedly grown out of. Theo had to wait to find out what the commotion was; being all of eighteen months, he was stuck in his crib until his grandmother finished hugging his mother in the hallway, walked to the nursery, and lifted him into her arms. 

Eleanor had no such restrictions. As she would proudly tell anyone who would listen, she was five-and-a-third years old, which meant she was practically a grown-up, and she had a grown-up bed to match. She emerged sleepily from the nursery with Snugglebun the stuffed animal rabbit clutched firmly in one hand, her free thumb wedged firmly in her mouth, and Mitzi the cat trotting along just ahead of her.

Eleanor’s mouth fell open at the sight of Jack, and her arms flew up in surprise. “Daddy!” She screamed, dropping her stuffed animal directly onto Mitzi. Ellie raced down the hall at top speed, screaming for Jack the entire way. She barreled into him in much the same way Nicky had, forcing a grunt and a wince from Jack, who was well enough to withstand the impact of a toddler but not a kindergartener. “My daddy,” she cried, stepping onto his thigh so she could reach to hug his neck and kiss his face repeatedly. “Mommy, look,” she sobbed, pulling back to pet Jack’s hair, “It’s my daddy! My daddy is here!”

Katherine stifled a sob of her own, and Jack freed one arm from Nicholas so he could wrap it around Eleanor. “Hello, Bunny,” he said, his voice thick. He turned his head to smother her in kisses, squeezing Nicky tightly to his chest and pulling Ellie even closer against his side. “Hello, my little one.” 

“I’m not a little one,” Eleanor wailed, overjoyed to be repeating their routine. “I’m a big one, Daddy. Big, big, big.”

“Well, wouldja look at that,” Jack said, laughing and crying all at once. “So you are.” He kissed her hair before bending down and doing the same to Nicholas, who had sat down in Jack’s lap and curled up like a cat, wrapping his arms around Jack’s right leg.

Kate and Theo entered next, and Theo clapped in surprise, his face lighting up as he saw Jack. He wriggled in Kate’s arms until she set him down, and he toddled down the hallway to his father, squealing in delight. “Daddy!” He stopped just before he reached Jack and hopped forward, falling onto the pile of children Jack was trying to support. Theo giggled as he stepped on Nicholas’ legs and lurched sideways, falling into Ellie, who shrieked and slipped off of Jack’s thigh onto the floor. 

“Theo!” Ellie yelled, slapping her little brother. “That hurt!”

Theo burst into tears and lost his balance, relying on Jack’s quick reflexes to save him from crashing to the ground. 

“Eleanor Joy!” Katherine snapped. “We do not hit people! Apologize to your brother!” 

Eleanor flopped onto the floor, still in tears. “No!”

“Eleanor,” Katherine said firmly, “Apologize.”

“He won’t unnerstand me anyway!” Ellie wailed, starting to kick her feet against the hardwood floors. “He hurt me, Mommy! It’s not fair!”

“It was an _accident_ , Eleanor,” Katherine said, her voice growing dangerously cold. “He’s a _baby_.”

“No, no, no!” Ellie shrieked, her face nearly as red as her curls. “I didn’t do it! Nicky did! It was Nicky!”

Jack looked up at Katherine, his eyes wide. “What on earth—”

“She missed you a lot,” Katherine explained. “This is her new normal.”

Jack gaped at his wild little girl, at her legs and fists hammering away on the floor, at the anger on her face. “Ellie,” he said. “Ellie-girl, baby, you have to—”

“No!” Eleanor screamed, cutting him short and rolling to clamp onto his leg. “No, no, no, don’t leave, Daddy, don’t leave! I’ll be good, I promise! I’m sorry, Theo, I’m sorry,” she gabbled, springing up and kissing Theo’s cheek, hugging him much too tight and patting him on the head, looking frantically from Jack to Katherine as she did so. “I’m sorry, see? _See?”_  

Jack felt his heart splinter even further at the fear in Eleanor’s eyes. “Oh, _Ellie.”_ He kissed her head and tilted her chin so she had to look him in the eyes. “I wasn’t gone because of you, astoreen,” he said, trying to keep his voice even as he wrapped an arm around her. “You could never make me leave.”

“I was _bad!”_ Ellie wailed. “I wanted a candy an’ you said no but Uncle Day said yes so I eated it an’ then you was so mad you never comed back!” She reached out to pat Jack’s cheek the way he so often patted hers, except her hands were uncontrolled and desperate, pleading for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Daddy! Please don’t go!”

“Oh, Eleanor,” Katherine whispered, her face falling. “It wasn’t your fault, Bunny.” 

“ _Daddy_ ,” Ellie sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be so good…”

Jack found his throat was too tight for him to speak. Everything in him was crying out to comfort his daughter, to hold her and kiss her and convince her that this wasn’t on her, that he’d never leave her willingly, that no matter what she did he’d always love her, he'd always come home to her, but his body was frozen and the words were nowhere to be found. “Ellie,” he croaked eventually. “Please… It’s… I’m here,” he finished lamely. How could he possibly explain this to her? How could he make her understand? _Try again, Jack. Try harder._ “I’m here, Bunny, an’ I ain’t… I’m not going anywhere. I wasn’t gone because of you. It was never because of you. I…” He lost control and began crying, big, gulping, gut-wrenching sobs that hurt his ribs and frightened Theo. 

Eleanor trembled and pulled away. “I’m so sorry!” She said, looking from one crying parent to the other, her big brown eyes wide with shame. “I’ll go in timeout,” she whispered, slipping out of Jack’s grasp. Jack watched her silently as she wiped her runny nose on her sleeve, ran down the hall into the nursery, and slammed the door behind her. 

“Ace,” he said weakly. “Ace, I can’t—” 

“I’ll take the boys,” Katherine said, trying to switch her voice from shaky to brisk. “You… you go rest. The bed is all made up for you; Mama put fresh linens on this morning.” 

“I’ll take the boys, Kitty,” Kate said, jumping in. “You go talk to Eleanor.” 

Jack sat, unable to move or talk or think, fixed in place as the two women removed Nicky and Theo from his arms and bustled them away. Kate shepherded his sons into the living room and distracted the boys with a game, while Katherine ran a hand lightly over Jack’s hair, set her shoulders, and slipped into the nursery.

As soon as Jack was alone, he collapsed against the wall, shivering as he felt waves of heat and cold radiate up from his stomach and spike through his veins. He balled his left hand into a fist and bit it, trying to quell the tremors, trying to use the sharp pain to bring him back to earth. No use. No use no use no use he was no use, he’d hurt his daughter, what use was he like this, none at all, no use no use it was no use and he was no use and—

He lurched to his feet and fled from the apartment, leaving his broken little family behind him.

 

*

 

Medda Larkin, proud owner of the finest (and fully paid-off!) theater on the Bowery, was shepherding the next group of performers into the wings, pulling stray threads off of their costumes and repinning wayward bits of hair as the seconds ticked down to their entrance. Then she gasped. “Anna Louise! Where on earth is your headpiece?” 

The blonde girl’s hands flew to her head. “Oh no! I musta left it in my dressing room!” The mini crisis may have caused the color to drain from her face, but the cakey stage makeup made it impossible to tell.

Medda sighed heavily. “Well, there’s no time for you to get it now, that’s for sure.” She pursed her lips. “You’re in the back anyway, sugar, so just make the best of it and be more careful next time, you hear?” 

“Yes, Miss Medda,” the girl said, still patting at her beehived hair, as if touching it repeatedly would make the headpiece reappear. 

“On you go, girls, that’s your cue,” Medda said, waving her arms to shoo the dancers onstage. “Go, go, go!” She watched the first minute or so of the number, gauging the audience’s reaction in order to see how obvious the costume problem was. Once she was satisfied that the men were too far too busy looking at the girls’ legs to notice anything that was or wasn’t on their heads, she turned to go find the missing headpiece. It probably was in the dressing room, just as Anna Louise had said, but if it wasn’t, then she wanted to know about it.

It wasn’t in the dressing room. Medda made a noise of frustration and chewed her lower lip. Costume closet, maybe? 

No luck there, either, and so she started going room by room, searching for the prop. Who’d have thought that a headband decorated with pink, two-foot tall, rhinestone-encrusted feathers would be so easy to lose?

She pulled open the door to the closet full of art supplies and screamed, jumping back in surprise. “Jack Kelly?!?”

He sat up sharply, banging his head on the lowest shelf. “Owwwww,” he groaned, clapping his hands to his head. 

“My, you gave me a fright!” Medda said, clapping her hand to her heart. “What’re you doin’ here, baby? Not that I ain’t happy to see you, but shouldn’t you be restin’ in a real bed, not sleepin’ in a supply closet?”

Jack turned away and rubbed at the sore spot on his head. 

“Jack?”

“Yeah,” he said sullenly. “Yeah, I oughta.”

“But you ain’t.”

“No.”

Medda crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. “And why is that?”

Jack growled and kept his eyes averted. “Because I…” He rolled his shoulders and stared at the floor, falling silent again.

“Jack?”

“I dunno, okay?” He snapped, finally looking up at her and starting to gesture wildly. “They was so sad an’ so loud an’ I—I _broke_ ‘em, Miss Medda! It all went fuzzy, an’ I couldn’t breathe, an’, an’, an’ they was so _sad_ …” he let his hands fall limply into his lap and trailed off, shaking his head slowly. “I just couldn’t be there. It was all wrong. _I’m_ all wrong.” 

“You’re tired and overwhelmed, is what you are,” Medda said, unfazed. “You’ve been through an awful lot, as has your family, an’ you’s all gonna need some time to recover. All the things you said don’t mean there’s a damn thing wrong with any of you; they just mean you been through somethin’ tough.”

Jack brushed his nose, unconvinced.

“You’ve never been a patient one,” Medda said kindly, squatting to take his unbandaged hand and squeeze it gently. “But some things take time ta heal. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Jack muttered, still tense. 

“Yeah?” She waited until he nodded in agreement before continuing. “Okay, well, this is one of those things, baby,” she said, rubbing his back. “You just need ta give it some time, is all. You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Jack nodded at the floor again, and Medda rose, pulling him up with her. “Now how’s about you get some rest in a real bed, hmm?”

His eyes snapped up to stare at her. “I can’t go back there, not yet, please don’t make—” 

“Shh,” she soothed, laying an arm across his shoulders and guiding him back to her office. “I’m not gonna make you go anywhere, baby. You’ll hafta go home eventually, of course, but if you need an hour or two in the theater, that’s fine by me. I’ve got a cot in my office you can use,” she said, steering him up a flight of steps and around a corner. Medda swept her arm out grandly as they entered her office, which was clearly a repurposed closet. “It's all yours, sugar. Go on an’ steal yourself a catnap.”

Jack’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave her a grateful look. 

Medda wheeled a hideaway cot up from the back of the room and shoved some furniture aside so she could unfold it, humming cheerfully as she rustled around the closet office. She pulled sheets and a pillow out of a desk drawer and made up the bed for him, turning the topsheet down just so. “Now,” she said briskly, dusting her hands off on her skirt. “I’ve got a show that I need to be runnin’, but you get some rest. Sleep as long as ya like, honey. I’m gonna head down to the telephone and call Katherine to tell her you came to visit me an’ that I’ll have someone bring you home once you wake up.” 

Jack knitted his eyebrows together. “I don’t need no one to—”

Medda raised a hand to cut him off. “Uh uh,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “Do you even remember how you got here? Or when?” 

“I…” Jack looked startled, then scared, then ashamed. “No. I wasn’t payin’ attention ta anythin’. Wasn’t even thinkin’. I just… all’s I wanted ta do was _go.”_

“I’ll have Caleb take you home,” Medda said firmly, and this time Jack didn’t protest. He hung his head, crawled onto the bed, and fell asleep.

 

*

 

Jack slunk into the apartment late that night, feeling guilty for having missed both dinner and putting the children to bed. His heart felt tight at picturing Katherine going through their nighttime routine alone again, of her having to feed and bathe and kiss the children goodnight again without him. Again. _Again._

She had every right to be angry with him. Hell, he was angry with himself.

At the same time, though, he felt even worse when he imagined himself being home for those activities. Trying to feed himself with his left hand, being unable to lift Theo from his high chair without wincing in pain, having to read a good night story to Eleanor and Nicholas and pretend like nothing had happened… he simply couldn’t do it.

Medda had said that he needed time—that they all did—and he knew she was right. He just hoped time was enough. Right now he wasn’t sure it was. He’d had time since Crutchie in the Refuge, time since Snyder, time since his parents died, time since, time since, time since… And yet sometimes the hurt ripped through anyway. Sometimes it sent him reeling. Sometimes he felt as if he were trying to piece himself together with fragments of what he knew he once had been, that maybe if he clung tightly to these bits and scraps then he could create himself anew.

It had been years since he’d felt like this, five blessed years of safety and normalcy and routine, five blessed years of family and home and enough to eat, and then… Then Chambers. Then his hand. Then the miscarriage. And now, well, now whatever this was had ripped through him like a whirlwind, tearing him open, flaying him alive, and he was tired. So tired. Tired to the bone, tired unto death. 

It felt different this time, too; this time he wasn’t sure he’d held onto enough of himself to start again. This time it was so big, so angry, so raw, that it was all he could do to smile at his children and respond when spoken to. And he would do that, to be sure; heaven forbid his children knew what lurked behind his eyes. Katherine might know, but his children? No. He could playact for them, at least for now. He could hold the monster at bay, but only just. Fighting it off, though… Well. He wasn’t strong enough. This beast had stalked him since he was five, and although he’d always beaten it back before, he wasn’t sure he could again. He needed something more than time, something more than love, something more than hope…

Jack sighed. He needed a new start, is what he needed, but that was absurd. No one ever got that.

Jack scrubbed his face with his hand and stood in the doorway of the bedroom he shared with his wife. Or used to share with his wife. He didn’t know if he could sleep there tonight. He didn’t know if he… No. It was that simple. He couldn't. He opened the door slowly, intending to kiss Katherine goodnight before leaving to sleep on the living room couch, but, looking at their marriage bed, he found himself unable to take another step. 

Katherine was curled tightly in on herself, so unlike her usual half-the-bed sprawl that left her draped across Jack or rolling into his arms most nights. She hadn’t taken her hair out of its practical braid, either, and he found himself missing the sight of her wild auburn curls spread across the pillow. He rolled his shoulders, trying to give himself the courage to approach her, but then he saw Theo wedged in the circle of her arms and Eleanor wrapped around her back like a baby koala, all three of them desperately seeking comfort in one another. All three of them needing more than what they had. All three of them broken into bits. All because of him.

Jack’s shoulders tensed and he walked away, kicking himself for thinking he had any right to touch her, to touch his children, to be close to them at all. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He’d tried to keep them safe, but he hadn’t. He’d tried to keep their family whole, but he had smashed it into pieces. All he’d done lately was cause them pain, and the last thing they needed was for him to do it again by... by… by what, exactly? _Was_ this his fault? It… it wasn’t, was it? And if… if he wasn’t guilty, then maybe he could—No. No, he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t touch them. He couldn’t be near them at night. It didn’t matter if it was his fault or not, because he was dangerous, and he was broken, and he was… he… he… he couldn’t risk it. No matter how much he loved them when he was awake, he’d hit and kick and hurt them in his sleep. He’d done it before—in fact, he’d done it as recently as the hospital—and no way was he putting his Katherine through that again. No way was he putting his babies through that _ever._ Jack shook his head wildly and stumbled off to the couch, eyelids already drooping shut.

 

*

 

Katherine woke to a yell, her eyes snapping open immediately at the sound. _Jack_. Her heart flipped, overjoyed that he was home, and she allowed herself that brief swell of happiness even as she disentangled herself from Ellie and Theo and raced to wake her husband from his nightmare.

“Jackie,” she soothed, kneeling by the side of the couch. “Jack, darling, it’s a dream. It’s just a dream, sweetheart. Shh.”

Jack was drenched in sweat, thrashing from side to side as he moaned meaningless sounds. His face was pale despite the perspiration dripping down his skin, and his eyes were flicking wildly back and forth under half-closed eyelids. 

Katherine bit her lip; some part of her had hoped that the nightmares would stay at the hospital, that being back in familiar rooms with familiar smells and sounds and sights would keep Jack calm, but clearly not. She hadn’t really expected them to, of course, but it would have been nice. Katherine sighed and sat back on her heels, watching Jack’s arms more closely, trying to see if there was any pattern to his movements. 

He hadn’t been this bad in a while, but she remembered these fits from early in their marriage and before, and now that she wasn’t half out of her mind with fear she knew how to handle it. She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d woken up to him battling demons—memories, really—in his dreams, which often resulted in her being punched and kicked (and, one terrifying night, choked) as Jack mistook her for something in his head that wouldn’t let him go. _One, two, three,_ she thought, and her hands shot out to grab his wrists tightly enough that he couldn’t hit her. He bolted up into a sitting position, the muscles in his neck cording, his mouth gaping in fear.

He took a breath to yell again, tugging at his wrists, eyes open and staring at her, through her, past her, completely unfocused. 

“Jack,” Katherine said softly, lifting her index fingers from his wrists to rub them gently back and forth against the backs of his hands. “Jack, Jackie, heart of my heart, light of my life, it’s me. It’s your Katherine. It’s your wife. You’re safe, darling. It was just a dream. You’re at home, you’re on the couch, and the children aren’t awake yet, so it’s just you and me and the night, okay? Hmm?”

Jack’s mouth opened and closed like a hooked fish, his eyes sliding onto her face and away again. 

“Okay, Jackie? Okay, dear heart? You’re safe, alright? You were dreaming, my darling. Whatever had you so upset—it’s not here. It’s just you and me. Take a deep breath, love. In and then out. There you go. That’s it. And again…”

She repeated herself again and again, waiting for Jack to finally wake up enough to follow her instructions, to come back to himself, to shudder and let his arms fall from their defensive position, to look at her in anguish and start to cry. 

“I can’t,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“That’s okay,” Katherine said, not knowing what he meant.

“No,” he said, reaching to grip her hands tightly. “No, I mean I _can’t_.”

“Do you want a hug?” 

He nodded and collapsed against her as soon as she drew him to her chest, his one good hand anchoring itself in the tangled wisps of her braid. “Katherine,” he whispered over and over. “Katherine, I can’t do it.” 

“I’m listening, darling,” she said, rubbing his back and kissing his hair. “And I love you.” 

He nodded into her ribcage and snuffled, spasming slightly as his sides began to throb from the effort of leaning forward. “Katherine,” he said again, and, hearing the pain in his voice, she eased him back to lie down on the couch.

“Shh,” she said, smoothing his hair back and mopping his sweat with the edge of her nightgown. “You’re okay. Do you want some water, love?” 

“No,” he croaked, and she went to get him some anyway. This time she braced his back as he sat upright, helping him tilt the cup to his lips and pretending not to see the water droplets that dribbled out of his mouth.

“There,” she said, setting the cup down. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Jack nodded. 

Katherine smiled and leaned in to kiss his temple. “Good. Now how about you come to bed? Having someone next to you always helped before, and I’d like having you there, too. As would the children.” 

Jack hung his head and closed his eyes. “I can’t,” he said again, his voice low. “I can’t.”

Katherine clenched her jaw almost imperceptibly. She wanted to ask him why, wanted to demand an answer, wanted to scream at him for leaving without a word earlier that afternoon, wanted him to admit that she deserved an explanation even if he didn't have one, but… she couldn’t. He looked wretched enough without her questions. Without her pestering. Without her making his hard road even harder. _Enough, Katherine. Swallow it and go back to bed_. “Okay,” she said. “You just… take your time, love.” Years of playing the role of impartial journalist had trained her to keep her voice steady and her demeanor light. The old Jack would have picked up on the slight falsity in tone, but the new Jack was so shaken that she was grateful he could hear her words at all. “Do you want me to stay any longer tonight, or should I go back to bed now?”

“I… bed,” he said eventually, looking her straight in the eyes. He sounded so measured that she could almost have believed he was back to normal, but she’d noticed that his left hand was clamped firmly around the thin blanket he’d draped over himself earlier. _Probably to stop the jitters_ , she thought. _He’s probably hoping I won’t notice, and he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it._

“Alright, love,” she said, leaning in to give him a feather-light kiss before leaving. He didn’t reciprocate, simply turned his head aside to face the couch cushions, but she swallowed her hurt and let him be.

She was nearly out of the room when he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Ace. I… I just can’t. Not yet.”

“It’s fine, darling,” she said, proud to hear that her voice wasn’t quivering in the slightest. “Take your time.”

It wasn’t until she was back in bed that she let the tears fall. She wrapped her arms tightly around Theo and Eleanor, pulling them both close, one nestled behind the other, and pressed her lips to her son’s wispy brown hair. “I need your father back,” she whispered, just to test the words aloud. They’d been bouncing around in her head for three weeks now, and they needed out. Katherine wiped her eyes on the shoulder of her nightgown. She’d hoped… well, she’d known that having Jack back wouldn’t be like having him as he was before, but she’d still _hoped_ , and… Well. “That was stupid of me, wasn’t it,” she told Theo, whose soft breathing was fluttering against her collarbone. “Because he can’t do it. He said so.” 

She rubbed Ellie’s back and tried to cry quietly; Eleanor hadn’t slept this well in ages, and Katherine didn’t want to wake her up. Being quiet was hard, though; the tears kept falling, and her nose was running profusely. But everything was hard, wasn’t it? Getting out of bed was hard. Taking care of her children was hard. Being patient with Jack was hard. Marriage was… Oh, marriage was _hard_. She loved Jack, and she loved him beyond reason, but if she’d known how hard being married to him would be… 

Katherine bit back a sob, overwhelmed by how empty and alone she felt. Her arms were full with her children, her hands were full with the washing and the writing and the raising of her little ones, but her womb was bare, her husband couldn’t bear to touch her, and his side of the bed was cold and vacant. She didn’t need him to prop her up, but she did want his arms around her, his voice in her ear, his reassurance that they’d get through this, that he’d return to her, that the baby would… that their baby was… She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to finish the thought. _Oh, my sweet baby…_

But the wildness in his eyes, the tremble in his hands, the way he’d disappeared today without so much as a by-your-leave and left her alone, alone _again,_ with the weight of his absence and the pain of her emptiness and the fear that he’d never come home—thank heavens for Medda’s phone call, because Katherine had just about… Well. This wasn’t the man she’d married. This was the terrified boy who’d broken up with her to protect himself. This was Jack-as-orphan, Jack-as-loner, Jack-as-desperate-for-Santa-Fe, and she was terrified he’d slip out the door and leave her forever. 

“I need him back, Ellie,” she whispered again, running her fingers across Eleanor’s curls. “But I don’t know where he is.” Katherine pulled her children closer, seeking comfort in their touch. She hadn’t lost Jack to the kidnapping; was she going to lose him now to something she didn’t understand?

She sighed into Theo’s hair and blinked back another wave of tears that she refused to shed. _Enough, Katherine. Enough. Give him time, give him space. And for the love of all that’s holy, stop crying. You’ve got better things to do than cry like a weakling. Swallow it all down and focus on Jack. Focus on your children. Focus on your job. Ah, yes, there you go, that’s it; see how nice it is not to be crying? See how nice it is to be quiet? Yes. It’s better like this, isn’t it? It is. It’s better. It’s so much better. You’re fine, Katherine. You’re fine. Go to sleep, you useless idiot. You’re fine._

And it was true-- she was fine. She was. She was perfectly, absolutely, wonderfully fine. Fine, fine, fine. She was fine. 

She was fine. She was fine. She was fine.

She had to be fine, and so she was. Simple as that.

_So why was she still crying?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thaisce is an Irish term of endearment that is often used for children. Like astoreen, which means “my little treasure,” a thaisce means “my treasure.” It’s apparently pronounced “uh HASH-keh.”
> 
> Yeah, yeah, I know, it's sad, I'm a monster, blah blah blah... still not sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack leaves the apartment and Katherine tries to do the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Cursing and a panic attack. Implied past child abuse.
> 
> .

Jack lurched awake, his heart racing. _It was just a dream, Jackie-boy. You’re okay_.

Was he, though? He wasn’t sure.

He laid on the couch a minute longer, panting, until the sparkling snaps of his racing mind were too much to bear and he pushed himself off the couch and into full wakefulness. He felt like hell, but he tugged on a pair of shoes with his one good hand and staggered down the four flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk, gasping at the effort of walking so far. His lungs were aching, his legs were trembling, his forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he should go back to bed and rest, he should lie down and rest, but… No. He couldn’t. He had to get out of here, out of this apartment, out of this prison, out of his life and into… Well, who knew? He sure didn’t. All he knew was that he had to go. It didn’t matter where. This time it didn’t need to be Santa Fe, it just—it needed to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but his own damn head.

He wandered through the city in a dazed, unsteady way that made the other early risers leave him alone, unwilling to get close enough to him to see if he was drunk or dangerous or in need of assistance. Jack didn’t even notice the suspicious looks he was attracting; he was stumbling from one block to the next without knowing he was doing it, losing track of the streets and the minutes and himself, just the way he had yesterday when he’d wound up at Medda’s. His ribs ached, his bandages needed changing, and his face was dark with stubble and pain. But at least he was out of the apartment, out of his nightmare, out of his… away from his… much too far from his…

 _My family_ , he thought, coming slightly back to himself and brushing at his nose. _What the hell am I doing?_ He looked up to orient himself and realized that he’d ended up at Charlie and Rosie’s. He readjusted his cap, which he’d grabbed before leaving, and went to knock at the door. He’d already raised his right arm before he remembered that his hand was useless. No; it was _worse_ than useless. It was the end of his world, that’s what it was. He let out a wordless cry of frustration and whirled around, tearing at the wrappings with his one good hand and then with his teeth, spitting shreds of gauze and cotton out onto the sidewalk. 

“Whoa there, Jackie!”

Jack spun, his eyes wild as they landed on Charlie, who had clearly just woken up and was now standing at the top of the steps as the front door of his townhouse swung shut behind him.

“Hey now,” Charlie said, moving slowly towards Jack. “You hafta be careful with that hand, boss.” 

“What hand,” Jack said bitterly, waving it at him, the tattered bandages flapping. “This ain’t no hand.”

Charlie motioned with his head back to the townhouse. “Wanna come in?”

“I didn’t come here ta see you,” Jack snapped, eyes darting away from Charlie.

“I c’n make us some coffee,” Charlie offered. “With milk, too,” he said, spotting the glass bottles by the doorway that the milkman had left. “Step up from what the nuns used ta give us.” He quirked his lips. “Though back then it tasted like heaven, huh?”

“How’dja even know I was here?” Jack demanded, staring out onto the street. 

“Rosie saw ya,” Charlie said, adjusting the crutch under his arm.

Jack growled, eyes still averted. “Oh, so she’s _spyin’_ on me now, ‘s that it? You got yer wife keepin’ watch on me like some sorta—”

“She was up with Bea,” Charlie said calmly, referencing his daughter, who had just turned one and was still not sleeping through the night. “Saw someone pacin’ on the stoop, rec’nized you, an’ nudged me awake.”

“What, so now I’m the Morris fam’ly’s fuckin’ pity case?” Jack snarled, finally staring Charlie down.

“No,” Charlie said. “You’s our friend, Jack. And hell, more’n that—you’s my _brother_.”

Charlie watched Jack’s shoulders sag. “Ya don’t want a brother like me, kid. All I am now is a burden.” 

“Fuck that,” Charlie said, snorting and gesturing at his twisted leg. “If you’s a burden, I’s a five-ton millstone ‘round your neck.” 

“ _What?_ Charlie Morris, don’t you dare—”

“Well then don’t you dare, either!” Charlie glared back, holding his ground. “Don’t you dare think that you’s—how could you—”

“ _Look_ at me, Crutchie!” Jack cried, thrusting his broken hand forward. “I can’t even use this ta wipe my own ass—how in the hell am I s’posed ta support my _family_ with it? I just… I don’t… I can’t…” He let out another cry of frustration and sank onto the front stoop. 

“Hey now, Cap’n Jack,” Charlie said, sitting down next to Jack and draping his arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Hey.” 

Jack leaned into Charlie and heaved dry sobs, finding himself unable to cry proper tears, hating himself for being so weak, so broken, so fucking _emotional_ , why was he like this, why did he even… Charlie pulled him close, rubbing Jack’s arm and letting Jack make ungodly noises on the front stoop. Jack’s chokes and gasps slowed after a while, and Charlie gave Jack’s arm a final squeeze before Jack straightened up, brushing his nose on his sleeve.

“I feel like we oughta be on our way ta the circulation office,” Charlie mused, watching blush-pink rays of sunshine start slanting over the rooftops. He gave a wry laugh. “All this time an’ my first thought when I wakes up is still ‘gee, I hope they gives us a good headline.’”

Jack sniffled and tried to smile. “Somethin’ nice an’ bloody.”

“With a real clear picture,” Charlie replied, his eyes soft.

“D’you miss it ever?” 

Charlie sighed. “Things wasn’t so complicated back then. That part I miss.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence a bit longer, watching the city wake up around them. Carts rolled by on their way to snag the best spots at various markets, the ice man spurred his mules on just a little faster before the sun got too high, the shop assistants and clerks and typists and messengers and office workers hopped onto trams and into taxis and stepped around piles of horse poop in the street.   

Charlie shifted and started to massage his leg, working some of the knots out of his calf. “You wanna take me up on that coffee now, maybe?” 

Jack shook his head and stood, stretching his hand down to Charlie to help him up. “Gotta get back ta my own family,” he said, rolling his shoulders in a way that betrayed his slight nerves. “Gotta be a dad an’ all that.” 

“That’s a job you’ll always be good at, hand or no hand,” Charlie smiled, making his way back up to the door of the townhouse.

Jack gave Charlie a worried look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said firmly. “I know it ain’t the same, what happened ta you an’ what happened ta me, but I got only one good leg, an’ my kids still love me somethin’ fierce.”

“They really do,” Jack said, his face lightening almost imperceptibly.

“An’ it’s gonna get easier,” Charlie added, his hand on the doorknob. “I mean, you’s gonna have bad days f’r the rest o’ your life—I know I do. Sometimes I wake up an’ can’t move f’r the pain.” Jack closed his eyes and ran his teeth gently over his lower lip. “But,” Charlie continued, “Those days’ll come less an’ less as time wears on. I promise.” 

“Manhattan’s honor?” 

“Manhattan’s honor,” Charlie swore. “You’s tougher’n Chambers, Jack, an’ you’s tougher’n what he did ta ya, too. I known ya mosta both our lives, so I c’n say that f’r sure: This ain’t gonna keep ya down f’r long. Not if you don’t let it.” 

“Thanks,” Jack said, voice quiet.

“See you soon,” Charlie said.

Jack turned to leave, then paused. “Crutchie?”

“Yeah?”

“I lied earlier. ‘Bout why I was here. I _did_ come ta see you, ya know.”

Charlie smiled. “I know.”

 

*

 

It took Jack nearly twice as long to get back from Charlie’s as it had taken to get there, but he still managed to make it home before anyone else in the family was awake. Jack sank wearily into a chair at the kitchen table and stared at his hand for a while, breathing heavily from his walk, before giving a grunt and standing to rewrap his hand as best he could. He’d only just finished when Nicky toddled into the room, dressed in a pair of loose sleep shorts. 

“G’morning, Bug,” Jack said, putting the kitchen scissors down and sweeping the bandage clippings into the dustbin. “You sleep okay?”

Nicky nodded and pulled himself up into the kitchen chair opposite Jack, laying his head on the tabletop and blinking slowly. 

“Still tired, huh, little man?”

Nicky nodded again and rubbed at his eyes. “Nicky bekfest?”

“You bet,” Jack said, rising and going to the counter. “And I have a surprise for you for breakfast, _a thaisce_. How’s a blueberry muffin sound, kiddo?”

Nicky’s eyes widened. “Eat muffin!” 

“Good,” Jack said, smiling as he placed the muffin in Nicholas’ outstretched hands. “Are you thirsty, too?”

Jack savored the time alone with his son as he pulled faces and made silly physical jokes that would give any preschooler a giggle fit. Nicky ate his muffin slowly as he and Jack clowned around together, giving Jack plenty of time to get breakfast ready for the rest of the family. By the time Eleanor, Theodore, and Katherine entered the kitchen, Theo in Katherine’s arms and Ellie tagging along next to her mother, Jack had put muffins on plates for each of them, brewed fresh coffee for Katherine, and set out a bowl full of fresh blackberries that he’d bought at a stand two doors down from the bakery.

Katherine’s face shifted from surprise to delight as she looked shyly at Jack and placed Theo in his highchair. “Oh, Jackie,” she said, and left it there.

“Muffins!” Ellie yelled, hopping into her seat and grabbing her breakfast with both hands. “Sit, Daddy, sit! Come sit next to me!” She patted Jack’s usual chair and bounced up and down, scattering muffin crumbs everywhere. For once, Katherine didn’t harp on Eleanor’s poor manners; she simply smiled.

Breakfast went well, at least mostly. Theo demanded a blackberry and cried when it was tart, Eleanor kept trying to sidle into Jack’s lap, undeterred by his and Katherine’s explanations that she couldn’t sit in his lap because Daddy had been sick and he was still hurt (she settled for leaning against his side and rubbing his back periodically), and Nicholas, who finished eating before the rest of the family, spent most of breakfast sitting on the floor next to Jack’s chair, hugging his father’s leg.

“They aren’t the best-behaved children, but they really do love you,” Katherine said hopefully, her eyes flicking up to his face and then away. Jack felt a twinge of guilt, recognizing her words as an expression of her worry that he would… well, that he’d do what he’d done yesterday. That he’d do what he’d done again this morning. That he’d up and leave the children, and her, without so much as a second thought.

“Santa Fe is too hot this time of year,” he said, praying she’d understand. 

Her face lightened and she nodded, even as Ellie frowned and patted Jack’s back. “It’s Santa _Claus_ , Daddy, not Santa _Fay_ ,” Eleanor said, clearly concerned about her father’s intelligence. “An’ he doesn’t come until _Christmas!”_

“Kimmis!” Nicholas echoed, leaning his head against Jack’s knee. 

“You’re right, Bunny,” Jack said. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Eleanor said sagely, going back to picking the blueberries out of her muffin and setting them aside to eat last.

“Daddy pway?” Nicholas asked, tugging at Jack’s leg.

“I’m still eating,” Jack said. “Later, okay?”

“I was thinking that maybe today we could—” Katherine began, but Theo let out a sudden shriek of excitement for no reason at all and smacked his hands on the high chair tray, causing Jack to yell and shoot up out of his chair. This sudden motion jostled Nicholas and knocked the boy’s head against the table leg, causing Nicky to crumple to the floor and began crying. Eleanor, who had been leaning nearly her entire weight against Jack’s side, toppled sideways and hit the seat of Jack’s chair before sliding slowly onto the floor. Soon she, too, had joined the chorus of tears, and then Theo added his wails to the mix, and Katherine was flying from her seat to comfort the children, and Jack…

Jack was frozen in place, eyes squeezed shut, standing stiff as a board, unable to move. He felt his heart kick into overdrive, and there was a muffled buzz in his ears that began to drown out his children’s cries, and his legs began to jitter, and he bent over to brace his forearms on the table so that he didn’t collapse, and then all that was left was a repeated order in his head to breathe, just breathe, you want to run but you’re okay, for some reason it’s okay to be here, and you’re okay here, and hold onto that and breathe, and he didn’t know _how_ he knew he was safe but he thought he must be because if that’s all that was left in his brain then it must be true, and if he could just breathe then maybe he would be okay, and maybe he… maybe… if he… breathe, just breathe, and…

Katherine took one look at her husband and herded the children out of the room, snatching Theo from the high chair and bundling him under her arm. “Nursery,” she said to Eleanor, grabbing Nicholas and hoisting him onto her right hip. “Right now.”

“But—” 

“I said _now_ , Eleanor,” Katherine snapped, and Ellie went, although she kept crying. Katherine left the children just long enough to call her mother, and then she went back to the nursery, setting her shoulders and summoning any and all remaining shreds of her patience. Somehow, from somewhere, she dredged up the energy to keep herself from crying and to focus on comforting Theodore, who was crying just because everyone else was crying, and Nicholas, whose forehead was bleeding and needed tending, and Eleanor, who was more surprised than hurt and kept trying to escape the nursery so that she could get a hug from Jack instead of Katherine.

Once Kate Pulitzer arrived, she and Katherine had a quick, whispered conference that resulted in rapidly dressing the now-quiet children and whisking them outside for a day at the zoo. They were just herding the little ones out the front door of the apartment when Eleanor paused. “Isn’t Daddy coming?” 

“No, muffin,” Katherine said softly. “We’re going out today so that Daddy can stay home and get some sleep. We took up the whole bed last night, remember?”

“Oh,” Eleanor said, leaning backwards to try to peek into the kitchen, where Jack was still standing, his shoulders bowed and his back tense as he continued to brace himself against the table. “Okay.”

Katherine was just turning to close the door behind her when she heard a hoarse call from Jack.

“Ace?” At first she thought she’d imagined it, but then—“C’n you stay?”

She sucked in a breath and held completely still.

“…please?” 

Katherine looked at her mother, who nodded, waved her back into the apartment, and continued guiding the three Kelly children downstairs. 

Katherine closed the door slowly behind her and walked carefully into the kitchen, her heeled boots making far too sharp a noise against the wooden floor. Once she slipped them off, the only sound in the room was Jack’s rapid, shallow breathing, which Katherine found herself beginning to imitate. _No_ , she scolded herself, _You have to stay calm. One breath to his three, Katherine. Think this through. Bring him back._

“Jack?”

Jack’s shoulders hunched up around his ears and he wobbled, completely spent from his morning walk, his breakfast, his illness, and his fear.

“Let me help you sit,” she said, taking a step closer to him, and he shook his head at the question in her voice. “You’re going to fall,” she insisted, and he raised one hand to ward her off, lowering himself slowly into the chair.

Katherine sat on the floor, several feet away from her husband, pushing down as much of her worry as she could. _He asked you to stay,_ she reminded herself, clinging to that as a good sign. _Just give him some time._ She had no other choice, she knew; experience had taught her that rushing Jack and his emotions only ever made things worse. But how much of her life had she spent on giving him time? She’d waited for him to get over his fear that she’d leave him, his fear that he wasn’t good enough for her, his fear of her family, his fear that he couldn’t support her the way she deserved… No, that wasn’t fair. He’d spent time waiting for her, too—he'd waited for her to face her family, for her to want to get married, for her to be ready for children, for her to come back to herself and be the mother he knew she could be. 

“I’ll always wait for you,” she said now, saying it aloud just as much for herself as for him. “Take your time.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said then, turning his head and finally looking at her. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

“No, it is,” she said, feeling the corners of her eyes start to prick. “For better or worse, remember?”

“No one signs up for this kind of worse,” Jack said, his gaze falling to his hand. “Ace, I… I’m not worth anything anymore.”

Katherine did start to cry then. “Please, can I hug you?” She asked, her arms wrapped around herself. 

Jack knit his eyebrows. “Why?” 

“I love you,” she said. “I miss you.”

“I’m not the man you married,” he warned her. “You could be proud of me when I was an artist, but I’m not an artist anymore. I’m dead weight, Katherine. I can’t work. I can’t hold our children. You need more than what I can give you. I can’t… I can’t be with you anymore.”

Katherine choked back a cry. “Don’t leave me,” she said desperately, scooting closer. “I’m so sorry about the baby, Jack, I’m _so_ sorry! Please don’t leave the children just because I—”

Jack interrupted. “It’s not that,” he said, face dark. “I mean I can’t… It’s…” He growled and dropped his head into his hands. 

“Please, may I touch you?” Her voice was a broken whisper, and Jack hated himself all the more for doing this to his strong, stubborn, confident wife.

“I don’t know why you want to,” he said, but Katherine took that as a yes and laid a hand on his tousled hair, running her fingers gently through it.

“I _love_ you, Jack,” she insisted. “We’ve been together for nearly fifteen years; how many more until you believe me?” 

Jack huffed a laugh. “I used to, but things’re different now, angel.”

“We’ll win out, dear heart,” she said, pleading. “Together we'll win out. We always do.”

He shook his head. “This time it’s better if we don’t.”

Katherine’s eyes flashed and her hand stilled, cupped against the base of his skull. “We are a _team_ , Jack. You don’t get to say our marriage is over without listening to my side of things! I say I love you and I want you and our children need a father, and I don’t understand why you won’t listen to me!” 

“Because I’ve got nothing to give you anymore!” Jack snapped, wrenching his head sideways and out of her grasp. “I can’t work, so I can’t give ya money, I—” 

“I’ve never cared about—”

“—can’t be with our children when they gets loud or upset, an’ one of ‘em is _always_ loud or upset, so I’m useless there—” 

“—but with time I’m sure that—”

“—I can’t hold you ‘cause I’m hurt, I can’t lie with ya ‘cause I’ll hurt _you_ , I can’t talk ta ya ‘cause I’m so scrambled up inside I don’t even got no thoughts what make sense ta _me_ , let alone anyone else, I can’t help in the house ‘cause o’ my damn body bein’ broke like my dad’s, I can’t walk with ya in public ‘cause they’s all gonna laugh at how Kath’rine Kelly’s gotta take care of her broken man, an’ lookit her, she coulda had anyone, but she chose wrong, she chose fuckin’ _wrong_ , she’s stuck with that fuckin’ useless _idiot_ , an’—” 

“Jack!” She flung herself into his arms and gripped him tightly. “Oh, please, Jack, darling, please don’t think that, please don’t do this to us, to you, to me, you’re worth so much more than your hand or your art, and I—”

“Macushla,” he said, pushing her backwards. “I can’t do this to you. You deserve better.”

“Talk to me,” she begged. “Don’t just shut me out.”

Jack closed his eyes and shuddered. Eventually, he spoke. “It was so dark, angel. All the time, it was dark. An’ it… It made me think of the Refuge, ya know? An’ how Snyder would… he’d…” Katherine lifted his good hand and kissed it. “It’s hard right now, love. Back when I met ya, I’d had time ta… I wasn’t so…” He brushed his nose and shook his head. “It’s like I’m thirteen again, an’ ev’ry time I close my eyes I’m back there, an’ it’s all… it’s all raw now, like it just happened, an’ I… I don’t know what to do.” He looked at her again. “It’s these images of then an’ of last week flashin’ through me without my say-so, an’ I don’t know when they’s gonna come, an’ if I ain’t movin’ or sleepin’ then they sneaks up on me so's I can’t even… so's I can't hardly... Well, you saw.” 

“You were jumpy like this after Five Points,” Katherine said softly, “And you got better.”

“But back then I could _paint_ ,” Jack’s eyes were wide and dark, and Katherine felt her breath catch at the depth of the anguish she saw there. “I can’t do that now. It’s all stuck up here,” he said, jabbing at his head, “An’ I ain't got no way ta get it out. Or, well, no way that ain’t gonna hurt you or the kids, an’ that…" He clenched his jaw. "I won’t do that. I can’t do that. I ain’t endin’ up like my da, Ace,” he said fiercely, and Katherine wondered –and not for the first time– about all that her husband had never told her. 

“You won’t,” she agreed. “You’re not going to hurt anyone, including yourself.”

Jack snorted. 

“You _aren’t,”_ she insisted, her eyes narrowed. “And leaving us right now would hurt everyone. So that settles that—you can’t go.” 

“But Ace,” he protested. “If I don’t get this outta me then I’m gonna hurt you or the little ones, an’ that—Ace, that’d just..." He made a frustrated noise. "If I did that, I couldn’t live with myself.” 

“That won’t happen,” Katherine said firmly, in a tone of voice Jack knew all too well. 

“But—”

“I’ve got a plan,” she said, squeezing his left hand. “You’ve been using this hand to draw with Eleanor, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, drawing the single syllable into three, all of them equally uncertain. “But just so's she don’t feel bad about her own art. I ain’t no good at it.” 

“But you will be, because you’re going to keep practicing. And you're going to start painting with it, too.” 

“Left-handed?”

“Yes. I’ve got a hunch that you're going to be pretty good with that hand, love.”

"Huh?"

“You hold your fork with your left hand,” Katherine pointed out.

“But that’s not ‘cause—that’s just ‘cause it’s good manners,” Jack protested. “You taught me all that stuff.”

Katherine scoffed. “Your manners are  _appalling_ , Jack."

"But you stopped buggin' me about 'em!"

"Yes, but it’s not because you got better; it’s because I gave up.”

Jack looked wonderingly down at his hand. “But…”

“Trust me,” Katherine said wryly, “If I’d _tried_ to get you to use the correct hand while eating, you’d probably have started eating with your feet instead. Your table manners are terrible. You’ve _always_ eaten with your left hand.”

“Okay, fine,” Jack said, shrugging. “What’s that gotta do with art?”

“I think you’re actually left-handed.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “That’s a reach if I ever heard one.”

“Is it, though?” Katherine said, arching an eyebrow. “You know they beat left-handedness out of kids in school. I bet that happened to you, right? You got knocked around for writing with the hand you wanted to use, so you switched to the other one instead?”

“I…” Jack was gobsmacked. “Yeah, I did, but…” He scratched his head and blinked rapidly. “I forgot all about that, Kath, I— I just… I mean, I remember the teacher hittin’ me with the ruler, but I just figured… I mean, I never gave it a second thought, I just... I figured there was somethin’ wrong with my left hand that they never bothered ta tell me ‘bout, so...”

“There’s nothing wrong with your left hand, dear heart,” Katherine said, rubbing it gently. “I think it's actually your dominant hand, and I bet you’ll pick things up pretty quickly with it once you start trying.”

“Well, gee,” Jack said, turning his hand this way and that. “I… Wow.” He licked his lips and looked Katherine in the eyes. “This don’t fix things, though. I still gotta learn how ta draw an’ paint again. It might be quicker’n it would otherwise, but I’s still got a lotta catchin’ up ta do, an’ that’s gonna take time.” 

“Well, as far as your job goes, you’ll have as much time as you need. My brothers already offered that.”

Jack flushed. 

“But more immediately, you’re right, you won’t be able to get your thoughts out the way you’re used to, so…” she took a deep breath and squeezed his forearms gently. “You’re going to have to talk.” 

Jack burst out laughing. “That’s your brilliant idea? I’m gonna _talk?”_

“I’m serious,” Katherine said. “You've never talked about the things that haunt you, Jack. About your past.”

Jack stopped laughing and looked sideways, his face grim. “There’s a reason for that.”

“I know, and so I’ve never pushed you on it,” Katherine said. “But it’s time. You’ve got to leech this poison, Jack, and since you can’t use pictures, you’re going to have to use words.”

“You’re the one what’s good with words,” Jack muttered, eyes still averted. “I don’t wanna do this, Kath. The things that’s happened ta me, the things I’ve done… I don’t wanna talk about it. I don't wanna hurt you with it.” 

“Shutting me out hurts more than letting me in,” she said simply, and he sighed.

“Darlin’, I’m serious. I don’t want you ta… I don’t want to burden you with all that.” 

She frowned. “So you’d rather abandon me with three young children than tell me what’s going on in your head?”

Jack’s head dipped lower, and he muttered, “I don’t want you ta think less of me. Ta look at me differently. I… I liked bein’ your hero, Ace. Made me feel I was worth somethin', ya know? I don’t want that ta change.”

She smiled and tapped his chin, turning his face towards hers so that she could kiss him. “That won’t ever change,” she promised. “You’re a survivor, Jack. You made it out of your childhood. You made it out of that basement. Whatever happened to you in there, whatever happened to you as a child, whatever you had to do to survive—I’m not going to think any less of you. The things that were done to you are not your fault, and the things that you did? Well, they kept you alive until I met you, and then they kept you alive so you could come home to me and the kids. And that’s what’s most important to me, dear heart. Having you with me. Getting to love you. Building a life with you. That’s all I care about. Not your past, not what other people did to you, and not what you did to make it through." She tipped his head up gently so she could meet his hesitant hazel eyes. "Jack. My darling. I love you, and nothing you tell me will change that. You will always, always be my hero, sweetheart. I swear it.”

Jack nodded cautiously, and Katherine stretched her thumbs up to caress Jack’s cheeks, finding them damp with tears. “I love you, Ace,” he said, voice low. “I really do, but... are you sure you wanna do this with me? It’s okay ta say no.” 

“I want to do _everything_ with you, Jack Kelly,” Katherine said, half crying and half laughing as she stretched to kiss the scar on his chin. “In fact, ever since I met you, that’s the _only_ thing I’ve wanted. So we’ll do this together, darling. As slow or as fast as you want. And I’ll love you every step of the way.” 

Jack gave a snuffly laugh and kissed her carefully on the forehead. “For sure?”

“For sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! <3 
> 
> Unsolicited life update: Things here are okay; I hate grad school and its messy aftermath, I have some onerous adulting chores that I really need to handle soon, and I still have no friends here, but I went grocery shopping yesterday, I have no plans for the weekend, and my cat is starting to get cuddlier (cold weather is setting in), so, you know, pluses and minuses. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which much of the action takes place at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> CW for cursing; I think that's it
> 
> .

Jack and Katherine’s resolution to figure this out together was tested that very evening, when Eleanor refused to sleep in the big bed with Katherine and, when told that was fine, because she could sleep in her own bed, she refused to sleep there, either.

“You have to sleep _somewhere,”_ Katherine said, at the end of her rope. “Big bed or your bed? It’s your choice, but you have to choose one.”

Ellie stamped her foot. “No!” 

“Eleanor Joy,” Katherine warned, “You are on thin ice with me, missy.”

“It’s summer! There’s no ice!”

“Big bed or your bed,” Katherine said again, her teeth gritted. 

“No!” 

“Eleanor! Big bed or your bed? You have five seconds, or I’ll choose for you.”

Eleanor screwed up her face and yelled, “Couch with Daddy!”

Katherine jerked as if she’d been slapped, then set her jaw. “That was not an option, so I’m deciding for you. You’ll sleep with me in the big bed. Come along.”

Ellie harrumphed, folded her arms, and plopped angrily onto the ground. “No!” 

“Daddy is sick,” Katherine said, squatting down in front of Eleanor. “If you sleep with him, you might get sick, too.”

Ellie used her feet to twist herself away from her mother. “Don’t care!”

“Well, I do,” Katherine said grimly. “Daddy needs time to get better, so he needs to sleep by himself for right now. It’s what he wants.” 

“Well, it’s not what I want,” Eleanor said fiercely. 

“I’m going to get ready for bed now,” Katherine said, pushing herself up from the floor, “And when I’m done, I’m going to come get you so you can sleep with me in the big bed. You can stay here until then, though. Pick out a bedtime book if you want.” 

“I’m sleeping with Daddy,” Eleanor grumped. 

Katherine ignored her. “Choose a book from the living room, please; Nicky and Theo are trying to go to sleep in the nursery.” Then, under her breath so Eleanor couldn’t hear, she added, “Because they’re _good_ children. Unlike _you_.” She padded off to fetch her nightgown, pausing at the door to the nursery to listen in and hear how Jack was getting along with putting the boys to bed. She’d offered to do it with him, but he’d waved her off, saying he’d call if he needed help. The silence from the other room was promising; he might have already put them down and then fallen asleep himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, that was for sure. The boys were generally quiet and compliant around bedtime, as long as Eleanor wasn’t around to stir things up, and Katherine knew how easy it was to let your eyes drift shut as you listened to your child’s rhythmic breathing. 

Katherine sighed as she slipped on her nightgown and went to brush her teeth. She wanted things to be as easy as possible for Jack right now, and she was thrilled that he’d wanted to help with the nighttime routine in any capacity, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed getting their stubborn five-year-old ready for bed. It was a difficult routine at the best of times, and tonight it felt downright impossible. Katherine hated these constant power struggles with her daughter; she just couldn’t seem to find a way to explain things to this willful little girl in a way that was both logical and persuasive, and as much as she wanted Eleanor to grow up to be a woman who was bold and determined and firm in her convictions, right now she just wanted her daughter to behave.

“Okay, Ellie, time for bed,” Katherine said, putting on a fake cheery voice and readying herself for battle. 

“Okay,” Ellie said, equally cheery.

Katherine blinked. _Wait… really?_ Well, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She cleared her throat and walked down the hall. “Do you need to go potty again before we read your book?”

“No,” Ellie said, emerging from the living room with her cat book clutched to her chest. “I’m ready for bed, Mommy.”

“Alright, muffin. Come lie down and I’ll tuck you in and read to you.”

Eleanor laid quietly next to Katherine, mouthing along with the words to her favorite book as Katherine read out loud, and then she kissed her mother’s cheek and began saying her prayers without being prompted.

“…an’ thank you God f’r blueberries, an’ f’r my daddy comin’ home, an’ please bless both my Uncle Waypots an’ my cousin Mimi an’ Uncle Charlie, an’ please take care of all the babies an’ cats in the whole world, an’ please bless Mommy an’ Daddy an’ Gamma an’ Nicky an’ Mitzi an’ Theo an Snugglebun, an’…” 

Eventually she’d run through her litany and ended the prayer with a resounding “Amen.”

Katherine smiled and brushed the curls back from Ellie’s forehead. “That was a lovely prayer, muffin. Sleep tight, darling.” 

“You, too,” Ellie sang, rubbing at her eyes and kicking the covers back. 

Katherine blinked. “Do you not want to be tucked in, sweet pea? Are you hot?”

“No, Mommy—I’m going to sleep with Daddy,” Eleanor announced, sliding off the side of the bed, her cat book in her arms, and marching out the door. 

“Lord, give me strength,” Katherine mumbled, looking upwards. She rolled out of bed and followed Ellie down the hallway, trying not to be so loud that she’d wake up the boys. “Eleanor Kelly!” She shout-whispered. “Get back here!”

“No!” Eleanor shout-whispered back. “I’m sleepin’ on the couch with Daddy!” 

Katherine swallowed a growl and caught up to Ellie, picking the five-year-old up and starting to waddle down the hallway with her as Eleanor kicked and yelled. 

“Be quiet!” Katherine said. “You’re going to wake up Nicky and Theo!” 

“Put me down! I don’t wanna sleep with you! I want Daddy, not you!”

“You _can’t_ ,” Katherine said. “Stop kicking me, Ellie—ow! Stop it or I’ll have to put you in timeout!”

“You can’t! I have to go to bed!”

“I’ll put you in timeout first!”

“No, you can’t!” Eleanor screamed, grabbing at the door frame as Katherine walked them into the master bedroom. “You can’t do that! It’s bedtime!”

Katherine grunted as she pried Ellie’s fingers off of the door. “I can too do that! I’m your _mother!”_

 _“Daddyyyyyy!”_ Eleanor screeched, kicking her legs against Katherine’s shins. “I want Daddy!” 

Jack burst out of the nursery, his eyes wild. “What the h—”

Katherine froze, guilt-stricken, and Eleanor took advantage of her mother’s shock to kick Katherine in the shins and scrabble away to run to Jack. “Daddy, Daddy, please, don’t make me sleep with Mommy, please don’t, please, I don’t want her, I want _you_ —” She slammed into Jack with the force of a small hurricane, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing into his pajama shorts.

He crouched instinctively to comfort her, shushing her and drawing her close even as he looked up to Katherine, a question in his eyes.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Katherine said, jolted out of her daze. “I _told_ her that you want to sleep by yourself, but I just—she… Here, let me…” She raced over to pull Eleanor off of Jack, but Jack raised a hand to stop her and shook his head.

“ ‘S okay,” he said, his voice rough. “I got this.” 

Katherine dropped her hands and backed up slightly, trying to mask her emotions. “O… okay. I’ll… I’ll be in the bedroom, then.”

Jack’s attention was already back on Eleanor, soothing and caressing and letting her cry into his chest. “C’mere, astoreen,” he said, his voice low. “Shh, now, darlin’. You’re tired, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie hiccupped, clinging to Jack’s thin undershirt.

“Okay, then. You wanna sleep with Mommy in the big bed, or you wanna sleep by yourself in your bed?”

“Wanna sleep with you, Daddy!” Ellie cried, her tears soaking through the cotton. “Please, Daddy, please!” 

“Sweetie, I..." Jack hesitated, then took a deep, slow breath, looking from his bedroom to Eleanor and back again. "Well. C’mon, then.” He straightened and held her hand, walking them both to the living room.

“Want you t’carry me,” Ellie said, running in front of him to force him to stop.

Jack shook his head. “I can’t, Bunny. I’m hurt.”

Eleanor frowned. “Hurt how?”

Jack swallowed. “I…”

“Like Uncle Waypot?” She asked, pointing to his bandaged hand. “Is your hand wiggly?”

“Sorta,” Jack said, closing his eyes as he sank onto the couch. 

“You’re not wiggling now,” Ellie said suspiciously. 

“It’s… it’s like Uncle Charlie,” Jack said. “But with my hand. And… and kinda the rest of me, too, but mostly that’s just for a little while.”

“Is your hand just for a little while, too?”

“No, my hand is… my hand is forever.”

“Okay,” Eleanor said, pulling herself up onto the couch to snuggle into Jack’s side. “Well, I’ll be real careful ‘bout the rest of you, Daddy. An’ I’ll tell God ta make your hand not forever. God’s a real good listener.” She gently took hold of Jack’s right wrist and pulled his injured arm in close around her. “I c’n help kiss it better, too, okay?” She pressed her lips to the gauze wrapped around his hand and looked up at him expectantly.

“Ah. Right,” Jack said, feeling his throat start to constrict. “Thanks, Bunny.”

“You’re welcome,” Ellie said nonchalantly. “Now read me my cat book.”

“Sure.”

 

*

 

Katherine laid awake in the big bed for what seemed like hours, listening to the murmured sounds of Jack reading aloud to Eleanor, then of Eleanor repeating her prayers, then some more reading, and then finally the near-silence of her sleeping family. As the house sank into dreams and darkness, Katherine laid as still as stone, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, think as quietly as possible, cry as quietly as possible. _Don’t wake them up, Katherine. Keep it to yourself. Let them rest._  

Tears slipped down the sides of her face as she stared up at the ceiling, alone in her marriage bed for the first time in years. Her abdomen ached, her heart was raw, and she had no idea where to go from here.

“I could really use that extra strength I asked for, Lord,” she whispered, curling onto her side and wrapping her arms around her middle. “I promise I won’t gripe about the timing, either. Whenever you want, just send it on down.”

 

*

 

Katherine stirred awake at around two in the morning when Theo crawled in beside her and snuggled up. “Hi, Bear,” she murmured, and he squeaked and burrowed into her side. Normally she’d fall immediately back asleep, but this time she slowly eased herself away from her baby and went to check on Ellie and Jack.

They were both sleeping peacefully on the couch, Ellie’s left leg flung over Jack’s waist, her face mashed into the cushions. Jack had pulled Eleanor in tight, his right arm wrapped tightly around her middle, his left bent at a right angle above his head. Mitzi the cat was sleeping draped over Jack’s ankles, and Ellie’s book was lying open on the floor, where it had clearly been dropped in the middle of yet another read-through. Katherine choked back a sob—she wasn’t sure if it was happiness or jealousy or something else altogether—and went back to bed.

 

*

 

“How’d my darlings sleep last night?” Katherine asked as Ellie led Jack to the breakfast table, where Nicky was eating a slice of watermelon, seeds and all.

“Good!” Eleanor said happily. “Ooh, watermelon!”

“Wahmennon!” Theo gushed, dribbling yogurt down his chin. Katherine quickly wiped it away and went to pour coffee for Jack and pull out the graham crackers for Eleanor.

“Do you need to put on some new underwear before you sit down, Bunny?” She asked, pouring out a glass of fresh milk and wiping Nicky’s sticky fingers before he slid out of his chair to go play. 

“Nope!” Ellie sang. “All dry!”

 “Oh, muffin,” Katherine said, kissing Eleanor’s forehead. “That’s wonderful, love!”

Jack raised his eyebrows at Katherine as he sank into his chair.

“Our eldest has been having frequent nocturnal toileting mishaps,” Katherine explained, and Jack blinked in surprise.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing at the wrappings on his hand. 

“I’ll help you change those after breakfast,” Katherine said, throwing away Nicky’s watermelon rind and unbuckling Theodore from his high chair, setting him in her lap so she could clean him off more thoroughly. “And the ones on your chest and stomach, too.”

“I c’n do those,” Jack said.

Katherine shot him a skeptical look, but Jack’s full attention was focused on his breakfast, which he was shoveling in like it was about to disappear. Katherine looked at the shadows under his eyes and decided not to push it. “How’d you sleep, dear heart?”

Jack frowned, his expressive eyebrows pulling tightly together. “I… I slept well, actually. I think I… might’ve slept through the night?” 

She beamed. “I didn’t hear any nightmares from either of you,” she said, spreading jam onto one graham cracker for Ellie and peanut butter onto a second.

“Last night I dreamed me an’ Daddy got eated up by a big wolf!” Ellie exclaimed. “But alla the newsies came to rescue us, and then they made me into a princess, an’ I got a sparkly crown, so it was okay.”

“That sounds like quite the dream, Eleanor,” Katherine said, gathering up the boys’ breakfast dishes to start washing them, and Ellie nodded. “I’d love to see you draw a picture of it, muffin. Maybe after breakfast?”

Ellie bounced up and down in her seat. “Yeah! _Oh!_ An’ Daddy can help!” She was practically bursting with excitement now, her breakfast all but forgotten. “Daddy, Daddy, finish eating an’ come draw with me!”

“Aw, I dunno, astoreen, I think maybe—” 

“ _Please_?” Eleanor widened her eyes and stood partway up in her chair to reach across the table to Jack, laying her small right hand on top of his damaged one. 

“Bunny, I really don’t want to draw this mornin’, okay?”

“Please, Daddy?” Ellie’s lower lip began to tremble, and Jack clenched his jaw as he saw the first tears spill over.

“Okay,” he said quickly, “Don’t cry, Ellie, please don’t cry. I’ll draw with you.” 

Ellie sniffled and nodded, sitting back down and giving her father a wobbly smile. 

He tried to smile back, and then he shoved his chair roughly back from the table. “Katherine, a word?” 

Katherine wiped her sudsy hands on a dishtowel and followed Jack into the hallway.

As soon as they were out of eyeshot of Eleanor, he rounded on her. “What the hell was that, Plumber?”

Her jaw dropped. “ _Plumber?”_

He waved his hand to brush away his words and then stepped in closer. “You knew she’d wanna draw with me, so you planted this idea in her head with me sittin’ right there so’s I can’t refuse her, an’ now I gotta—” He kicked the wall. “You wanna see me fail, huh? Just ‘cause Ellie wants ta sleep with me, not you, you figure you’s gotta put me in my place, remind me I ain’t worth shit?” 

Katherine gaped like a fish. “I—” she took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. “That’s not it at all, Jack.” She felt like screaming, but her tone was admirably measured. “Maybe I should’ve thought about how Ellie would want you to draw with her, but I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking about you, not in the slightest. I was thinking about Eleanor. She’s been having a rough go of it lately—wetting the bed every night, sucking her thumb, crying, taking naps again—she missed you desperately, Jack, we all did—and drawing has helped her. A lot. That’s the only reason I suggested it, I swear. Rightly or wrongly, you didn’t even cross my mind.” 

Jack clenched his jaw. 

“But,” she added, unable to help herself, “This might be a blessing in disguise. I know that sometimes you get lost in your own head, and I think the longer you put off getting back to your art, the harder it will be to do it at all. So this could be a good thing, Jack—it’s a low stakes way to begin. You’ve already been drawing left-handed with Ellie for months, so it’ll be a little bit of normality in a situation that has been anything but normal, and she adores everything you draw, so you won’t be facing criticism from anyone but yourself.”

Jack scoffed. “It was a nasty trick to pull,” he growled, clenching his left hand into a fist. “You shoulda asked me first.”

“It wasn’t a trick,” she reminded him, feeling her throat tighten, “I’m sorry that you feel it was, but it wasn’t.”

His eyes narrowed and he rolled his shoulders, looming in closer before turning on his heel and walking back to the breakfast table. “C’mon, Eleanor,” he said. “Let’s go already.” 

Katherine leaned back against the wall, pressing herself against it as if that would keep Jack from seeing her as he and Eleanor walked to the living room, where Jack’s drafting desk and Ellie’s art table were set up. It didn’t matter that the wall was a terrible hiding spot, because he didn’t look back in her direction, anyway. He was clearly too angry to think anything through at the moment, and, as she tiptoed back into the kitchen to finish cleaning, she hoped that, mixed in with his anger, there was a part of him that was upset because he felt badly for jumping to conclusions. 

Sighing, Katherine finished drying the last of the breakfast dishes and used the damp towel to dab at her eyes. She missed her life. She missed the baby she’d never gotten to hold. She missed having a partner she could rely on and believe in. Where on earth had her husband gone?

She’d just finished putting the last of the dishes away when she heard a siren-like wail coming from the nursery. “I’m coming, Theo!” She called, wiping her hands on her skirt and hurrying off to put out the next fire. A woman’s work was never done.

 

*

 

Only Eleanor saw what Jack drew that morning; as soon as she left the room to go play with Nicky, Jack cut his picture into ribbons and scattered the scraps out the window. Katherine tried to probe Ellie for information, but she quickly realized that it was a pointless exercise.

“What did you two draw together, muffin?”

“Castles!”

“Really? That sounds nice. What did Daddy’s look like?” 

Ellie crawled under her bed to retrieve some fallen stuffed animals. “A castle!”

“Was it a pretty castle?” Katherine asked, lifting Theo up and sniffing at his diaper, only to grimace at the smell. Oof, that definitely needed changing. 

“It was beeee-you-tiful!” Ellie’s hand emerged from under the bed to shove a cloth bird and a tattered giraffe out onto the carpet. “Nicky, you be Owly now. I’m gonna be Snugglebun an’ Giraffe.” She grunted as she squeezed herself back out from under her converted crib. 

Nicholas picked up the bird stuffed animal and started making cheeping noises as Katherine moved Theo to the changing table.

“Not like _that!”_ Ellie protested, grabbing the bird back from her brother. “Like this. First you say ‘Hello, Mr. Giraffe. How are you today?’” She held the giraffe and angled it towards the bird before pitching her already-high voice up another octave. “And then I say, ‘I’m well, thank you, and you?’” She handed the bird back to Nicholas. “Okay? Do that.” 

Nicholas licked his lips and hummed. “H’lo Misser Raf. How you day?”

Ellie beamed and threw her arms around her brother. “Good _job_ , Bug! Okay, now it’s my turn.”

“Was Daddy in a good mood?” Katherine asked her daughter, pinning Theo’s diaper in place. Katherine had to repeat herself three times before Eleanor could be distracted from playing with her brother.

Ellie shrugged. “I dunno,” she said, setting Snugglebun the stuffed rabbit on a piece of paper that was doubling as the school and the library.

“Well, was he being nice to you?”

“Mhmm,” Eleanor said, taking Owly from Nicholas and placing the bird next to the rabbit. 

Katherine tried not to sigh too audibly, but it wasn’t easy. She was twisted in knots over Jack, and although he seemed to be able to be mostly normal with Eleanor, Katherine wanted to know more. However (and unsurprisingly), it was nearly impossible to get a five-year-old (even a precocious one) to relay any coherent information about Jack’s emotional state. Katherine set Theo down on the floor and watched him toddle over to his siblings, wishing she could just enjoy this sweet moment between her three children. But she was too preoccupied with the icy fear that Jack would start slipping away from her, that this time the gap between them would widen until it could no longer be bridged, that he’d abandon everything they’d worked to build, everything they still had together, everything they’d dreamed of making in the future, in favor of mourning what he’d lost. 

This wasn’t a purely idle fear, either; as soon as Ellie had finished drawing earlier that morning, Jack pled fatigue –believably, too; he looked awful– and locked them all out of the living room, saying he was going to take a nap on the couch. Katherine doubted that Jack was sleeping, thinking it was far more likely that he was working himself into a spiral of self-hatred, but she wasn’t about to knock on the door and check. If he wanted privacy, then she was going to try to give it to him. It wasn’t like she could give him anything else that he wanted.

 

*

 

Jack and Ellie were awakened a few mornings later by the ring of the telephone.

“ ‘lo? This is Jack Kelly speaking,” Jack said muzzily, picking up the receiver and bending over the side table to put himself even with the mouthpiece.

“Ah, Jack! I wasn’t expecting to reach you; welcome home. It’s Carter Dearing, Mrs. Kelly’s editor at _The World_.” 

Jack briefly squeezed his eyes shut and then leaned more heavily against the side table. “Carter, yes, hello. Thank you. What can I do for you?”

“Is Mrs. Kelly there?”

Jack cast a look at the clock. 10am. Katherine had been taking the children out at 9:30 every morning to give him some peace after breakfast, by which point he'd usually been up for hours—how had he slept so long? He looked over at Eleanor, who blinked owlishly back at him from the couch, her curly hair sticking up every which way. How had _she_ slept so long? “She’s out on a walk with the boys; can I take a message?” 

“I’d appreciate it if you would, Jack, thank you. Would you tell her that a source just fed us a tip about a corruption story I think she’d be perfect for? It’s got a mix of immigration issues and more than a whiff of high society political scandal, so I’d love for her to take the story if she wants it, but she’d need to start tomorrow—the tip’s too hot to hold it for longer.” 

“Sounds important,” Jack offered, watching Ellie slide off the couch—her pajamas were dry, he saw—and leave the room. 

“It is,” Carter Dearing said, “But I know she’s got important things to be doing at home, too, so I understand if it’s not a, uh, if it’s not an option for her to cover it right now.”

“Well, she’ll have to make that decision herself,” Jack said, running his wrapped hand along the side of the table. “I’ll have her call you back.” 

“By this evening, please,” Carter said. “I’ll be in the office until ten. Thanks, Jack. Speedy recovery.” 

“Thank you, Carter,” Jack said, not trying very hard to inject the appropriate sincerity into his voice. “I’ll let her know.”

 

*

 

“…you’re _takin’_ that story, Ace!”

“What do you mean, I’m taking that story? Since when do you tell me what stories to chase, Jack?”

“Since you started passin’ up golden opportunities?”

“I don’t need the biggest stories anymore,” Katherine said. “That’s not what drives me now.” 

“I thought you loved your job.” 

Katherine huffed in exasperation. “I do! But I love you more, and right now you need me more than my job does.”

Jack turned away. “Take the story, Katherine.” 

“I _can’t_ , Jack. You only just got home last week, and you—the children—you need me here!” 

He whipped back to face her. “You don’t need to baby me!”

“I’m not babying you; there are things you legitimately cannot do right now, and I can’t leave the children with you when…” 

“When I’m fuckin’ useless?”

“That’s not what I—” 

“Sure, sure,” Jack said, waving her off. “It’s just what we were both thinkin’, that’s all.”

“That’s not fair, Jack! You know that’s not what—”

“I been playin’ fair the last fifteen years,” Jack interrupted, “An’ look where it’s gotten me, huh? Look at me, Katherine, really _look,”_ he said, stretching his hand out to her, “An’ tell me all my hard work was worth it. Tell me this… this _payoff_ means that the hours of practice an’ study an’ sleeplessness was time well spent.”

She froze, rendered momentarily speechless by his impassioned non sequitur, and then surged forward, gently clasping her hands around his right wrist. “All that work won you the strike, Jack. It won you me and the children and a roof over your head. It won you food in your belly and the money to pay for your medical care. It won you the means to help your boys, to bail them out of trouble and get them started in careers of their own. It won you a _life,_ darling. And maybe it… maybe your right hand can’t do that for you anymore, true, but you don’t need it to, either—you’re in a good place now, Jack, and you haven’t lost anything you’ve already earned.”

“Pretty words,” Jack scoffed, pulling his wrist back. “Go put ‘em in the paper, why doncha. I hear Carter Dearing is lookin’ for a writer.” 

“Please don’t do this, Jack,” she begged. “Please let me in, love. Stop being angry with me and let me help. You said you would, so stick to it.”

“Just go write your damn story,” Jack growled. He paused, then added, “I already told him you’d do it.”

Katherine reached out a hand to steady herself against the dresser. “You what?” 

“You heard what I said,” Jack said, turning his back on her and staring out the window. “Decision’s been made.”

“But you said that you… that he… this is _my_ career, Jack; I thought we agreed we’d discuss these things together and leave the final story choices up to me?”

Jack shrugged. “I lied.” 

Katherine blinked and felt her mouth hanging stupidly open.

“Go on,” Jack pushed. “Carter’s waiting.” 

“But it's nearly the children’s bedtime,” Katherine protested weakly. It was late enough that they’d already had dinner, a mostly calm affair, aside from Theo’s unpredictable babble-shouting outbursts, Nicky's repeated attempts to wiggle away from the table before he'd eaten much of anything, and Eleanor’s intermittent singing, but it wasn’t yet so late that they’d been put to bed. At present the three Kelly kids were all playing (relatively) quietly in the nursery, likely in an Eleanor-steered game of make-believe. 

“I c’n handle bedtime,” Jack said gruffly. “Boys’re easy, an’ you know Ellie listens ta me.” 

“She does,” Katherine said faintly, acknowledging that, hand or no hand, Jack was the only adult who could bring their wild little Eleanor to heel.

“So go.”

“But…”

“Just go, macushla,” he said, finally meeting her eyes, and she nearly buckled at the pain she saw in his expression.

She nodded, unwilling to push him when he looked like… like _that_ , and the argument was over.

 

*

 

Jack woke up in the middle of the night, completely disoriented and surprised that it was still dark out. He’d gotten mercifully unused to these witching hour wake-ups ever since Ellie had started joining him in sleeping on the couch; neither of them seemed to be able to make it through the night alone, but together they fared well enough. 

He yawned, blinked his eyes in the near-blackness, and tried to figure out why he was up. He heard the gentle breathing of his daughter, felt her pliant weight in his arms, registered her knees tucked into his abdomen. The pressure on his feet came from the cat, who was snoring lightly. There were no sirens. So why was he…

Ah.

Muffled sobs, echoing down the hall.

_Katherine? Yes. Katherine._

He carefully disentangled himself from Ellie, smiling as Mitzi the cat slunk off of his feet and slipped into the open circle of Eleanor’s arms. Mitzi gave a short meow before licking the girl’s face, and her easy purr settled both of them back into sleep. Jack shut the living room door behind him and padded down the hall to his bedroom, giving a careful knock on the door frame before entering.

“Ace?” 

The sobs stopped instantly.

“I know you’re awake, love.”

Silence, then a sniffle.

Jack brushed at his nose and then rubbed the back of his neck. “D’you… D’you want me to hold you?”

He heard a gasp of surprise, and then a whispered “Please.” Jack rolled his shoulders and bit his lip. _You can do this, Jackie-boy. Come on, now._  

He slipped cautiously into bed behind his wife, who stiffened and then sighed, her shoulders relaxing against his chest. He laid his left hand on her side and ran it upwards, searching for the hair that he knew would be wisped and tangled around her face. He took a deep breath to steady himself and then brushed his fingers along her cheek, feeling the tears on her skin. Hesitant but tender, he pulled her tendrilled curls backwards, tucking them gently behind her ear.

“Nightmare?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” she said, her response just a series of shifted tones rather than an actual word.

He licked his lips and softly ventured, “‘Bout me?”

He felt her tense and pause, then heard a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

He kissed the shell of her ear, then sighed, laying his head on the pillow beside her, shifting until his nose was at the nape of her neck, his lips brushing the start of her spine. “I’m going to be okay, macushla.”

She began crying again in earnest then, and Jack wanted to comfort her, but what if he hurt her by… what if she didn’t want… _Ah, fuck it._ He tugged her closer, wrapping her firmly in his arms and making quiet shushing noises. Over and over he hushed and kissed and soothed, rubbing his hand over her arm, stroking her hair, pressing his lips to her neck and shoulder. He alternated between sounds and soft touches, hoping that something would work, that something would stick, that something would calm her back to bed. And eventually something did—Jack wasn’t sure how long she cried, but, gradually, the sobs began to slow. He kept up his rhythm, wanting to lull her asleep, and over time he felt her relax even further, her back pressing ever closer against his chest, until finally the sobs and sniffles subsided into soft, even breathing.

“Ace?”

No reply.

She was out, then, he supposed. Oh, Lord. What had he done to his smart, strong, sensible wife? What in heaven’s name had he _done?_ He kissed Katherine once more and let his eyes fall closed.

 _Please, God. Please, would you please just…_ He took a deep breath. _I don’t even know what to ask for, God. I don’t have any idea what to do to make things better for her. Or for me, or the children, or my friends or my job or my life, and I… I just hope that you do. I know I’m not as good at praying as Katherine, but you’re all-knowing, right? So maybe you could just… know what I need, even though I don’t? Maybe you could help me to help her? And maybe you could help me with the rest of it, too? Please?_

*

 

Jack awoke with the dawn, feeling strangely at peace in a way he hadn’t for weeks. Then he realized that he was in his own bed, his arms wrapped around his wife, her head tucked under his chin, her breaths tickling his chest, and he felt a wave of cold fear wash over him. He immediately rolled away from her, breathing hard, and tucked his hands under his armpits. He quickly scanned Katherine’s skin, checking her over for lumps and bruises, not allowing himself to breathe until he’d determined that she seemed fine.

 _How could you fall asleep next to her, Jack, you selfish idiot?! You knew what you were risking—how_ could _you?_ He rubbed his eyes and set his shoulders, furious with himself. He’d gotten lucky this time, thank heavens, but luck was all it was. Pure, dumb luck, and nothing else. He could’ve had a nightmare. He could've thought she was someone else. He could’ve hurt her, and hurt her badly. Thank heavens he hadn't, but he very well could have.

By now he trusted himself with Eleanor—even in dreams, he wasn’t going to mistake a child for a threat. But Katherine—he’d hurt her in his sleep before, and he might well do it again. _Holy fuck, Jack—you have to do better_.

Katherine stirred slightly, registering his absence. “Jackie?”

He froze.

She blinked slowly and then scooted towards him, wrapping herself around his body once more. “Best I’ve slept in weeks,” she murmured, lipping sleepily at his neck. Her eyes drifted closed, and she hummed in contentment. “Stay with me,” she ordered, already falling back asleep.

Jack held his breath, feeling his heart race as Katherine’s chest rose and fell. He dearly wanted to listen to her, to stay with her, to hold her—he wanted it so desperately that his bones ached with the power of it—but was what he wanted worth more than what was best for her?

 _She asked you to stay, though,_ his inner voice reminded him. _She knows the risks, and she still wants you here._ He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. No. He couldn’t let his wants cloud his judgment. He had to go. He had to keep her safe. He had to do what was right for Katherine.

 _Ah, but she’s telling you what’s right for her,_ the pesky little voice said. _You’re just too scared to believe her._

Jack growled. “Ain’t nobody calls me scared,” he muttered, glowering at the window opposite the bed. “No way.” He lifted his left arm to wrap it back around his wife and dipped his head to kiss Katherine’s shoulder. Screw his fears; she wanted him, he wanted her, and he was over and done with letting his terror get in the way of that. He hooked his leg over hers to pull her closer and scowled into her hair, breathing in the sweet, sleepy smell of Katherine that always made him feel at home.

He brushed her hair back with his bandaged hand and glared angrily at the morning sunlight slanting across the bed. His nightmares were cordially invited to fuck the hell off, because he was done letting them ruin his life. He wasn’t going to let them win this time. Not again. Not a chance. Not with her at stake.

“I’m stayin’ right here,” he promised Katherine, even though she couldn’t hear him. He meant it, too. He was here, and he was staying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you had to wait a while for the update, but it's 6100 words! Hope you enjoyed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps forward, one step back? Jack is better at readjusting to some parts of his life than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> TW: Past child abuse mentioned/briefly discussed. Cursing. 
> 
> .

“Alright, my darlings—behave for Daddy today, okay?”

“Yeh-ess,” Ellie and Nicky chorused, standing in the hallway in front of Katherine.

“Mwah, baby,” she said, kissing Theo on the cheek. “Be good.”

“Be guh!” He echoed, wriggling in her arms so that she’d put him down.

Katherine worried her lower lip beneath her teeth as she tried to decide what to say to Jack before leaving. All of the things she wanted to say to him— _are you sure about this, I can stay home if you want, maybe we should wait a little longer_ —were things she knew would upset him. All of the things he wanted to hear— _you’re going to be just fine, you’ll be back to work in no time, this is just a terrible dream—_ were lies. 

She settled on a cheery “Have a good day, dear heart! I’ll pick up some dinner on the way home, probably around five-ish.”

Jack nodded and rolled his shoulders, already turning away to follow the children into the living room. “See ya.”

“Okay,” she said, wanting to add an ‘I love you’ to that, but _he_ didn’t seem to want that, so maybe she should just keep her mouth shut, but then again if Jack’s abduction had taught her anything it was that you never knew when you might be saying your last words to someone so you ought to tell them you love them early and often, and— and then the moment was gone, and the apartment hallway was empty, and Katherine’s shoulders slumped as she shut the door behind her. “I love you,” she whispered under her breath, hoping that would be enough to ward off disaster, and started off to work.

“Right, then, kiddos,” Jack said briskly as they all trooped into the living room. “Here we go. A full day with your dad.”

“Hee go Da!” Theo crowed, running full speed into the couch and giggling as he bounced backwards from his impact with the cushions. 

“Heah we go, Daddy!” Nicholas yelled, imitating Theo and crashing into the couch. Ellie eyed the boys for a second, a little put out that she hadn’t invented the game. She joined in soon enough, however; this looked like too much fun to miss. Soon all three of Jack’s children were running around the room, squealing with laughter as they (mostly) pretended to bump into things and then bounce off of them. Jack settled himself in the armchair and grinned, watching his munchkins spin and skip and stumble from one piece of furniture to the next.

It ended the only way it could, of course, when one of them ran a little too hard into something that was a little too sharp and toppled over onto the floor, stunned and hurt. Jack’s wide eyes met those of his fallen child, and the moment hung delicate and crystalline in the summer morning.

Then it shattered.

Nicholas screamed, Jack flinched and turned away, Eleanor froze in place, and Theo began to whimper in sympathy. Soon both little boys were wailing, Eleanor was looking desperately at her father, and Jack was trembling, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to force himself to step closer to Nicky, to hold him, to comfort him, to stop the noise. 

Ellie jumped in first. “It’s okay, Nicky!” She hastened to her brother’s side and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his chubby cheeks and patting his back. “Where’s it hurt? Want me to kiss it better?”

“Mommy!” Nicholas cried, his face red with distress. “Want Mommy!”

“Well, I’m here,” Ellie offered, “And Daddy is, too...” She looked up to Jack to confirm that his inaction was a mistake, that it was temporary, that he was the adult who would soon start fixing things. “Daddy?” 

Jack nodded, wrenching his eyes open and uncurling his fists. “Yeah, Bunny,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “I’m here, Bug,” he said, kneeling down next to Nicholas and scooping the two-year-old into his arms. “Shh, _a thaisce_. Shh.” 

“I’ll get Theo!” Eleanor chirped, and rushed to distract her youngest sibling, who calmed down after a minute or so of tickles and funny faces from Ellie.

Nicholas and Jack calmed down together, each of them finding solace in the other, although Jack felt rattled well after Nicholas had hopped off his lap and run to join his siblings in their next game, which consisted of marching around the couch and singing something about ice cream.

The rest of the morning was blissfully crisis-free, although there were a few minor bumps to kiss and hurt feelings to be soothed, but by the time naptime came around, Jack felt as if someone had sucked every last drop of emotion and energy out of him. Add to that a fearsome headache, and he just couldn’t see how he’d get through the rest of the afternoon. “You ready ta lie down, astoreen?” He asked Eleanor, who, since Jack’s return, had gone back to sleeping through the night and eschewing naps during the day.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Imma big girl, Daddy! Naps are for babies.”

“Well, in that case, I’m a real big baby, ‘cause boy do I need some shuteye,” Jack grumbled, rubbing his temples.

“Let’s draw!” Ellie said, tugging at one of Jack’s suspenders. “C’mon, Daddy, let’s draw!”

Her high-pitched voice was like knives in Jack’s skull. “No,” he said, sinking into an armchair. “I can’t.”

“Why _not?”_ Ellie whined, climbing into his lap. “C’mon, Daddy! Please? Pleeeease?” She crawled up his torso to kiss his lips and pat his cheeks. “C’mon, c’mon! Draw me somethin’ pretty, Daddy.” She slipped back onto the floor and ran to her tiny art table. “A unicorn! Draw me a unicorn, okay?” She started pulling out all manner of markers and pencils, humming to herself as she did so. Mitzi the cat jumped up onto the table and started batting things around, which made Ellie shriek. “No! Mitzi, stop! These’re f’r me an’ Daddy!” She shoved the cat, who meowed and leaped off the table, skittering into a chair leg before racing from the room. 

Jack pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned. “Holy hell, Eleanor Kelly, c’n you just be quiet for half an hour?” 

Ellie looked up and frowned. “That’s a bad word.” 

Jack slumped even more. “Quiet. Just be quiet.” 

“I’m gonna tell Mommy.” 

Jack lurched halfway upwards. “I said be quiet!”

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears and her face fell as she burst into tears.

“Dammit,” Jack whispered under his breath. “I…” He bit his lip and stared at Eleanor, then shook his head. “I can’t do this.” He staggered to the side table with the telephone, but, just as he’d picked up the receiver, the doorbell rang. “Fuck,” he muttered, and went to answer the bell, closing the living room door behind him so that Eleanor’s cries wouldn’t echo down the hallway. 

“Hello,” said Kate Pulitzer, “I was in the neighborhood, and—”

“Thank the Lord,” Jack interrupted, pulling her inside. “The boys’re asleep, but Ellie’s cryin’, an’ my head hurts somethin’ awful, an’ I just—”

“Say no more,” Kate said, cupping his cheek and patting it gently in the way Katherine did with the children. “You take an aspirin and lie down, and I’ll see to Eleanor.”

“Thank you,” Jack said fervently, and he lurched down the hallway and into his bedroom without a second glance behind him.

 

*

 

“I think he did quite well, all things considered,” Kate said to Katherine in a low voice as she left for home later that afternoon. “He played with them the whole afternoon once he woke up from his nap.”

“Thanks again, Mama,” Katherine said, casting a quick look behind her to make sure Jack wasn’t within earshot. “I’m so glad that you—” 

“Shush,” Kate said kindly. “That’s what mothers are for.” 

Katherine smiled and wrapped her arms around her mother. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, dear. Now go eat dinner, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Katherine closed the door and felt her heart sing at the sound of laughter –including Jack’s– echoing from the kitchen.

“Again, Daddy, again!” 

Jack obliged. “Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man…”

 

*

 

“I’ll see you this evening, then,” Katherine said. 

“Don’t say it like it’s a question,” Jack said, bouncing Theo on his hip. “I got this. You won’t have to come home early. We’re headed to the park, aren’t we, kiddos?” 

“Yeah!” Eleanor and Nicholas chorused, Nicky jumping up and down and falling sideways into Eleanor, who caught him and giggled.

“Are you sure that…” Katherine stopped herself as Jack clenched his jaw. “Right,” she said weakly, kicking herself. “Have a wonderful time, then.” She tried to reestablish eye contact with her husband before she left, wanting to kiss him goodbye or say an ‘I love you’ or, well, anything really, anything that would remind her of how they used to be. Jack refused, though, choosing instead to tweak Theo’s nose and wink at his youngest son. “Bye,” Katherine finally said, crouching to hug Nicholas and Eleanor, who then joined together to shove her out the door. 

“Bye, Mommy!” They said, waving and blowing her kisses as she walked down the stairs and away to work.

 

*

 

“… are ya sure, kid?” Jack asked, running his left hand through his hair. “I mean, I’m gettin’ better an’ all, but I dunno that now’s really the right time ta ask me f’r a portrait.”

“Please?” Charlie wheedled. “The locket won’t be any good without a picture of Beatrice in it.”

“I’m still kinda lost,” Jack said, scratching his scalp. “Why’re ya givin’ Rosie a present when Bea’s the one havin’ the birthday?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. “ ‘Cause Rosie’s the one what done all the work of makin’ an’ birthin’ Bea in the first place,” he explained. “Besides, Bea’s only turnin’ one—she’s too young ta remember any o’ this. We wouldn’t even be havin’ a party if Danny an’ Eddie weren’t old enough ta understand birthdays.” He paused to smile fondly. “They is, though, an’ they’s dead set on makin’ sure their baby sister celebrates in style.”

Jack quirked a smile. “That’s sweet. Guess we’ll be in the same spot with Theo’s birthday soon enough. He won’t care much that he’s two ‘steada one, but Ellie sure will.”

“Exactly,” Charlie said, clapping him on the back. “So, will ya do it?”

“I still think ya oughta get a photo made instead,” Jack said doubtfully, using the bent fingers of his right hand to rub at the normal muscles of his left. “I ain’t in good form at the moment.” 

“Portrait photography is eldritch business,” Charlie said firmly. “I don’t want none o’ that near my little girl.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Ya didn’t mind gettin’ your photo took f’r the paper durin' the strike, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, an’ then I got locked up in the Refuge straight after,” Charlie pointed out. “No, thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “No photos f’r me an’ my family. I want a Jack Kelly original or nothin’.”

Jack huffed a laugh. “Okay, fine. You an’ me c’n fight about that superstitious claptrap later,” he said. “But f’r now, I’ll aim ta get ya a decent portrait o’ your baby girl in time ta make Rosie happy.” 

Charlie beamed. “Thanks, Jackie. I knew I could count on you.”

 

*

 

“Say bye to mama,” Jack crooned, and Theo waved as his mother slipped away into  _The World_ building.

“Daddy,” said Theo, wiggling in Jack’s arms, “Boats?” 

“A harbor trip,” Jack echoed, mulling the idea over. He shrugged. “Sure, kiddo. Let’s do it.” He looked down at Eleanor and Nicholas, who were fidgeting on the sidewalk. “You squirts wanna help me hail a taxi?”

All three children cheered and began waving their arms enthusiastically over the edge of the curb. A driver pulled up soon enough, and Jack bundled the kids into the backseat. “Now if we’re gonna go see some big boats,” Jack said, tugging one of Eleanor’s curls and watching it bounce back into place, “We gotta learn some ship songs, right?” 

Nicholas nodded seriously and Eleanor grinned. “Like the ones Uncle Waypot sings?” 

Jack’s eyes widened, thinking of all of the terribly inappropriate sea shanties Spot must’ve learned while working down at the docks. “Um.” This was definitely one of the downsides of having a large group of male friends. He sighed internally; at some point he was going to have to probe Eleanor for more information and then read Spot the riot act depending on what she said, but, well, no way was he doing that in front of the cabbie. Jack could see the man’s ears practically glowing as he listened in, and Jack wanted to show that he was a _good_ parent, one who didn’t let his kindergartner learn bad words. Or, well, at least not any bad words that Jack hadn’t taught her himself. Words he’d taught her inadvertently, of course, but… _Focus, Jack_. “Maybe a little different than those, Bunny,” he said, chucking her under the chin. “You’ll have to hear mine and let me know, I guess.” 

“Okay,” Ellie said, squeezing closer to Jack. She frowned suddenly and crawled across Jack’s lap to smack her brother’s thigh. “Nicky! Pay attention!”

Nicholas blinked and turned his head away from the window. “Us singin'?"

“Yep,” Jack said, and launched into a repetitive ditty about the ocean that he remembered from his own aborted childhood. Ellie and Nicky joined in on the second chorus, and Theo began to bounce and clap his hands arrhythmically. Jack felt himself relaxing as they sang through verse after verse, Nicholas mostly just mumbling sounds that sort of sounded like they could be words, Eleanor getting a few things confused and then singing every wrong line over again (but faster so that she could catch up to Jack) before joining back in, and Theo swaying and babbling and clapping at random. They were a scattershot mess, his lot, but boy did he love them.

When they arrived, Jack tipped the cabbie a little extra for putting up with the caterwauling on the drive. He’d barely finished putting his wallet back in his pocket before he had to run and catch Nicholas from toppling over the edge of the pier, swinging an arm around the boy’s middle just as Nicky was trying to wriggle in between the slats of the wooden guardrail. Squirmy child contained, he returned his attention to the other two, who were sitting in the grit and gravel by the side of the road, making piles of pebbles and getting astonishingly dirty. Jack laughed and called them over, setting Nicky down on his feet and brushing the worst of the grime off of Theo. “Come on then, you little monsters,” he said, stooping slightly to hold hands with his sons as Eleanor danced ahead. “Let’s go see some ships.” 

 

*

 

“Bedtime!” Jack called, setting down the freelance project he was working on for one of Kate Pulitzer’s moneyed friends.

“I’ll take the boys, you take Eleanor?” Katherine asked, setting her pen down from the shorthand notes she was transcribing for her investigative piece.

“Nah, you keep working,” Jack said, already leaving the room. “I got it.”

Katherine blinked. “But—” 

“I said I _got_ it,” Jack snarled back over his shoulder. “I don’t need any help, alright? I’m already with ‘em all day all by myself three whole days a week, an’ they’s doin’ just fine—good moods, learnin’ stuff, sleepin’ well. _I_ did all that, okay? Just me. No help. I’m a good father, Katherine; I c'n put ‘em ta bed.” 

Katherine deflated like an overcooked soufflé. “Okay,” she said quietly, swallowing hard as she picked her pen back up. “That’s fine.” She continued working until she heard Jack start getting ready for bed, and then she capped her pen and switched off the living room lights. They continued their nighttime routine in parallel, neither of them saying anything until they crawled into bed, Katherine pulling the topsheet over herself and offering half to Jack.

“No thanks,” he said. “Too hot.”

They both settled in, and Katherine waited for Jack's rustling and shifting to quiet before speaking. “I know you’re a good father,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve never doubted that, not for an instant.” 

Jack grunted and flipped onto his right side so that his back was to her.

Katherine let the silence stretch, then added, “The children adore you.”

Eventually, he responded. “They do, don’t they,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling back and reaching a hand out to rub his shoulder. He jerked away at her touch. 

“Don’t,” he snapped. “It’s hot. I’m hot.”

“Sorry,” she said, pulling her hand back to her chest and curling her fingers inward.

“Look,” he sighed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his forehead. “I just… I got a killer headache, okay? Lemme sleep it off.”

Katherine felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks, but her voice stayed steady. “Of course.” 

 

*

 

“Eleanor!” Katherine scolded. “Stop pulling on Theo’s lips!”

“But they’re so smushy!” Ellie protested, tugging her baby brother’s lower lip out and watching it snap back into place. 

“Lips are not for pulling,” Katherine said curtly, trying to wrestle Nicky into his shoes. “Nicholas, hold still—” Theo interjected with a wail; this time, Eleanor had jerked too quickly, causing his lip to snap back in between his sharp baby teeth.

“Eleanor Joy!” Katherine said. “I told you to stop!” 

“Mrs. Carter lets us do it in Sunday School,” Ellie said, folding her arms and pouting. “She says God says lips are for pulling.” 

“Pull your own lips, then!” Katherine said, scooping Theo into her lap, shushing him as she tried to force Nicholas’ right foot into his shoe. When she’d finally managed to do that, Nicky ran off, his top still unbuttoned, and Katherine spun back to Eleanor. “You disobeyed me, Eleanor.” 

“He pulled his own lip!” 

“Eleanor! He did not pull his own lip.”

Ellie glared, her eyebrows pulled tightly together. “Did too!”

“Did—” Katherine shook her head and stopped herself. “Jack? A little help, please? Mama’s going to be here any minute, Eleanor’s mouthing off, and I’ve got one half-dressed child running loose.” She waited, hearing only silence, then exhaled slowly. “Shh, Theo,” she said, kissing the head of her crying child and putting him into the crib. “You wait here,” she said to Eleanor. “And do _not_ touch your brother.”

“Hmmph!” Ellie said, plopping onto the floor.

“Jack?” Katherine called again, pushing open the door to the master bedroom. “Would you be able to dress Nicholas, please? He’s escaped to the living room again, and I haven’t buttoned his top yet or finished putting on his shoes.” 

“ ‘S my day off, Ace,” Jack groaned, burrowing his head even farther under the pillow.

Katherine gritted her teeth and tried not to yell. “I know, but Mama’s not here yet, and I could really use some help getting the children ready for when she comes.”

“She c’n help ya when she gets here,” Jack said, still refusing to move.

“Yes, but she already does so much for us by taking them two days a week,” Katherine said, internally complimenting herself on her measured tone. “I think that we should at least have the children ready for her when she gets here.” 

“I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You're right that it’s not a big deal, but it’s still important to me.”

Jack snuffled and sneezed. “ ‘M tired.” 

“I’m tired, too,” she said, hearing her voice rise as her nerves frayed. “And I would appreciate it if you’d help me with our children.”

Jack groaned again and rolled out of bed, his hair sticking up at odd angles. “Happy now?” 

“I will be once you dress Nicholas,” she said, each word clipped.

“Nag,” Jack muttered under his breath as he walked by her.

“Excuse me?” Katherine said, the bottom falling out of her stomach.

“Nothing,” Jack said, loping down the hall to find Nicky.

“No,” Katherine said, her voice trembling with rage. “Forget it. I changed my mind. Go back to bed. I’ll do this myself.”

“I’m already up,” Jack said, continuing to search for the toddler.

“Go back to bed,” Katherine ordered. “I don’t want your help.”

“Too late.”

“Just go back to bed!”

“Found him,” Jack said, kissing Nicky’s hair before painstakingly doing up the boy's buttons, making silly faces all the while. “There you are, Bug! Ready for a day with Grandma?”

“Yeah!” Nicky cheered, racing down the hall with his one shoe on.

Katherine burst into the living room as soon as Nicky was gone. “What is _wrong_ with you, Jack?”

“What?” He growled, spinning to face her. “I did whatcha wanted, didn’t I? Me an’ my crippled hand managed ta button the kid’s shirt. Ain’t ya happy now?” 

Katherine sucked in a breath. His hand. Buttons. Right. She’d forgotten. _That doesn’t excuse his behavior, though,_ she thought, feeling her anger simmering away under her skin. “Why don’t you _talk_ to me?” She screamed at him, throwing her hands into the air. “Just _tell_ me things, Jack!” 

“Tell you _what?”_ He roared back. “Tell you how my head hurts near all the damn time, how I’m so tired I can’t hardly take care o’ my own kids, how on the days I’m home I sleep mosta the day so's I c'n make it through the days with our littl'uns, an’ then when I finally gets up enough energy ta _try_ ta work, well, that's when alla my nightmare mem'ries o' my shitty childhood comes back so thick I feels like I’m chokin’ on ‘em? Is that what ya want me ta tell ya, Katherine? How you’s yoked ta someone so broken he can’t even function? How you’s stuck f’r the rest o’ your life with the man who killed your child by gettin' himself kidnapped?”

“Yes!” Katherine yelled. “Yes, Jack, that’s _exactly_ what I want you to tell me, dammit! I _love_ you, Jack Kelly, and I can’t help you unless you _tell_ me!”

He slammed his hand against the wall. “You can’t help me even _if_ I tell you!”

“How do you know?” She asked, stepping closer, her hands curled into fists. “How do you know if you haven’t tried, huh?”

“You wouldn’t understand what I's been through,” he said, brushing past her.

“Maybe not,” she said, grabbing at his sleeve, “But I can still help!"

Jack snorted, but Katherine held his bicep firmly in her grip, keeping him from storming off the way he wanted to. 

“You didn’t understand how I felt after Ellie was born, but you still helped me get better,” she insisted. “You did, Jack. Not at first, when I wasn’t talking about it, not when I wasn’t telling you anything at all, but once I did—once I started talking—then you worked miracles.”

Jack froze, and she felt him begin to shake underneath her grasp. “Don’t send me away,” he whispered, his left hand rising slowly to latch onto hers, his wedding ring winking in the early morning light. “Don’t lock me up. _P_ _lease,_ Kath'rine—I'll do anything, I'll—I’ll behave, I promise, I’ll—”

“Jackie,” she breathed, pulling him in for a hug. “That’s not what I meant at all, I would never—darling, I wouldn’t—” She felt him sob into her shoulder, and she lowered the two of them gently to the floor, not trusting his shuddering legs to support his weight for much longer. “I’d never do something like that to you, dear heart,” she soothed. “You’re safe with me, darling, okay? You're safe. I promise. Do you hear me?”

Jack nodded and sobbed harder, and Katherine rocked him side to side, glad that the children were keeping their distance. 

“You can’t keep all of this inside you, Jack,” she said carefully. “You don’t have to talk to me, but you have to talk to _someone_." She hesitated. "Well, I’m going to take part of that back, because you _do_ have to tell me when you’re overwhelmed. I’m trying to find the right balance here, Jack, I really am, but I don’t know what’s going on in your head, so… Well, sometimes you act like you can take on the world, and then other times even a seemingly small thing is too much, and I... Well, I try to guess how you're feeling, but if I guess wrong then you get angry, and that…” She trailed off, but then she steeled herself. “No. I’m going to say it. Jack, what we’re doing right now isn’t working, because most of the time I feel like you have energy for everyone but me. And I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, and Lord knows that you’ve had more than your fair share of sorrow and pain in your life—hell, you’ve had more than most people could _survive,_ even—but I’m not your roommate. I’m your _wife_.” 

“Men don’t talk about stuff like this,” Jack whispered. “That ain’t how it works.”

“Since when have you ever cared about how it works?” She said fiercely, pulling back to place her hands on either side of his face. “If I remember correctly, we met because you _hated_ how it worked and refused to play by those rules.”

He gave a choked laugh and nodded. "True."

“So don’t care about how this works, either,” she begged. “Talk to me. Tell me. You’ve got a good life now, Jack, one that you’ve worked years to build—won’t you break a few unwritten rules in order to keep it?” 

He took a shaky breath and looked at the floor. “C’n you go inta work a bit late t’day, maybe?” 

“Of course, love,” she said, trying not to betray her relief. “You go back to bed, and I’ll finish getting the children ready for Mama. I’ll be back as soon as she’s picked them up.” 

“Okay,” he said, and rose slowly to his feet, shuffling to the bedroom.

Katherine set her shoulders and finished with the children, who had heard enough of the fight to be silent and compliant. _Well, that’s one way to get them to behave,_ she thought grimly, and murmured child-friendly explanations and reassurances to them before shooing them out the door and heading back to her husband. _Okay, Katherine. Now just... don’t screw this up_. 

“Jack?”

He rolled to face her, his eyes fragile and his body still trembling. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice paper-thin.

“I forgive you,” she said, sliding in next to him, rumpling her starched dress and ironed blouse. “And I love you.”

“I was Ellie’s age when my ma died,” Jack said, launching in immediately. “An’ I never really thought much about it. That’s just how it was. I missed her, o’ course, ‘specially as I got older an’ saw what other people had with their mothers, but I didn’t realize....” He swallowed and tried again, wrapping one arm around himself for comfort. “Ellie made me realize just how young five is, Ace,” he said brokenly. “I thought I was so grown up back then, so it didn't bother me much, what happened, but now I know I was just a baby, an’ I… I had ta… Well, my Da tried his best, but he…” He brushed at his nose. “Losin’ her cracked somethin’ in him, I guess, an’ he… He’d drink a lot, ya know? Not all the time,” he added hastily, and Katherine felt a swell of sadness at how, even now, Jack wanted to remember his father as better than he was. “He was a real good da mosta the time,” Jack continued, confirming Katherine’s thoughts. “It was just paydays, really, when he had somethin’ extra in his pocket.” 

“Yes?” Katherine said, trying to nudge him towards catharsis, if that was even possible. 

“He’d beat me,” Jack whispered. “He’d take his work boots off an’… an’..." He shook his head as if trying to dislodge the memories. "I was only little, Ace. All this time I thought it was my fault, but what could I have done—what could Ellie ever do—what could our baby do ta make me do somethin’ like that ta her?” Jack started to cry again, choking, ugly noises with no tears at all. “I look at Ellie an’ I _love_ her, Ace. I see her little smile an’ that mop o’ hair an’ all I wanna do is protect her! I let Chambers’ man take me just ta keep her safe, I let myself be locked up an’ stabbed an’ beaten f’r her, I spent days an’ nights sittin’ in my own piss an’ shit, hungry an’ thirsty an’ sure I was gonna die, an’ ya know what?” His voice grew heated. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had ta. I would. I love her _that much,_ Ace. She’s my _daughter._ An’ yet _my_ da… my da saw me at that age an’ all he saw was dirt.”

“Oh, Jack,” Katherine said, slowly stretching out a hand to stroke his hair. “I’m so sorry. You did nothing to deserve that, love. Not ever. That should never have happened to you, and I am so sorry that it did.” 

“I’d never do that ta our kids,” he said, meeting her eyes for confirmation. “Would I?” 

“No,” Katherine said. “Absolutely not.” 

“But I’m partway him, ya know,” Jack said, his eyes frantically scanning Katherine’s face. “I lookit our kids an’ see bits o’ me in ‘em—like Nicky fallin’ over alla the time ‘cause he’s runnin’ too fast, I did that when I was little—or Ellie wantin’ ta draw just about ev’rythin’ she sees—or even Theo. I know he’s real little still, but he looks just like me, don’t he? An’ if I's in our kids, then that means that my da’s in me, too. An’ what if… what if he comes out, Ace? What if I just snap?”

“You won’t,” Katherine said firmly. “You aren’t that kind of man, Jack.” 

“I's whupped plenty ‘o people before, though,” Jack said, shivering. “Real bad, Ace. So bad that they… they…”

“Jack,” Katherine said, wrapping her hands around his. “You only ever use your fists to defend people. You never strike first, and you never strike at all unless it’s your only option. You’re not a violent man, Jack, and you will never, _ever_ hurt our children.” 

A shudder rippled through Jack as he stared intently at her. “For sure?”

“Yes. For sure.” She bent to kiss his twisted hand and then looked back up into his glistening hazel eyes. “There are a lot of things I’m not sure about, dear heart, but that? That is not one of them. I am absolutely certain that you will never hurt our children, and I am just as certain that you will never hurt me. Trust me on that.”

“Okay,” Jack said, his voice faint. His shoulders eased from their tensed position, and he took a deep, slow, even breath. “I… I’m tired, Ace. I gotta lot still ta tell ya, I think, but… I’m so tired...”

“We can talk again later,” she said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You get some rest, dear heart, and I’ll work from home today. I’ll just be in the next room if you need anything at all.” She eased out of bed and smiled. “And you better need something, alright? Even if it’s just a cup of water. This ‘I don’t need help’ nonsense has to stop, and we’re going to start on that right now.” 

Jack gave a weak laugh and let his eyes drift shut. “Okay, macushla. You got it. Bring me a water.”

“Right away, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine said, hearing his breaths grow soft and steady even as she left the room. She felt drained, yes, but lighter, too, and somehow… somehow, despite the ups and downs of the morning, her overriding emotion was hope. Throughout the fifteen years they'd known each other, Jack had kept the worst traumas of his past hidden behind veiled references and closed lips, but today he had finally allowed her to shoulder a bit of that weight.

It was true that, substantively speaking, he hadn’t given her all that much—the story he'd shared was but a small snippet of a small portion of his past, and it was something she’d long since guessed about his father, too—but the fact that he had finally, openly shared this with her made her heart soar. Besides, she knew from experience that, when it came to doing things you were scared of, the first step was usually the hardest. She'd also learned spilling the first drops of a story often opened the floodgates for more; she sensed the same would be true of Jack. “I’m proud of you, darling,” Katherine said, kissing his forehead as she placed a glass of water on his nightstand. And even though he was fast asleep, she felt compelled to reassure him once more. Stroking his hair, she whispered, “You’re my brave, beautiful boy, Jack, and I love you more than words can say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! 5800 words, so not my longest update, but... whatever.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More scenes from Jack and Katherine's gradual recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: I mean nothing in this chapter is worse than the stuff in any previous chapters, but... Cursing, Jack yells at Katherine, short panic attack, references to parent death and childhood poverty and what happened to Jack earlier in the story.
> 
> As a reminder, Jack and Kath are in their early 30s, Ellie is about 5, Nicky is nearly 3, Theo is about 18 months.

“Mommy! Mommy! Watch me run!” Ellie twisted her hand out of Jack’s and took off like a shot down the sidewalk, startling her parents and delighting Theo, who shrieked in excitement as his sister got farther and farther away.

“Eleanor Joy,” Jack yelled, quickly chasing her down and grabbing her by the arm, “You know the rules. No running when it’s crowded.”

Ellie sighed and hung her head. “But walkin’s no fun!”

“Well, how about if you skip?” Katherine suggested brightly.

Ellie grinned and then bit her lip, her annoyance dissolving like morning mist as she worked on figuring out the mechanics of skipping. Jack had been practicing it with her out in the alley in the afternoons, and although she loved it, her skips were still mostly leaps and hops interspersed by hesitant shuffle steps. 

Jack shot Katherine a wry look, and Katherine winked; both of them knew that this would entertain Eleanor for the rest of their walk to the World Building. And since Eleanor was safely occupied just a foot or two ahead of them, Jack fell back alongside his wife. Katherine’s hand twitched, wanting to reach out to Jack, but… it would be better to keep her hands to herself than risk ruining what was turning out to be a nice morning, she thought, and so she readjusted her grip on the bar of the double stroller.

Jack looked at his sons, both of whom were seated snugly in the stroller that Katherine was pushing. “Alright down there, boys?”  

“Mhmm,” Nicky nodded, clutching his teddy to his chest and kicking his feet against the stroller.

“Yeah!” Theo chimed in, bouncing his and Nicholas’ joined hands up and down.  

“That’s good, that’s good,” Jack said absently, tugging his flat cap forward and back.

Katherine sent him a sideways look and then flicked her eyes away just as quickly. “So, Nicky,” she said brightly, “What are you and Daddy and Ellie and Theo going to do today, hmm?”

“We gonna pway cars,” Nicholas said firmly. “Voom voom!”

“Oom!” Theo echoed, beaming at his brother.

“That sounds nice,” Katherine said. “What other sounds are your cars going to make?” 

“Honk honk!” Said Nicky. 

“That’s a good car sound,” Jack said, “But how about… baa baa?”

Theo burst out giggling and Nicholas laughed and shook his head. “No, Daddy! Seep say baa!” 

“ _Sheep_ say baa?” Jack asked, incredulous. “Are you sure it’s not cars?”

“Nooooo!” Nicholas said, smacking his hand on the edge of the stroller as Theo flopped sideways and continued giggling. “It not cars. Seep, Daddy, seep!” 

“Hmm. Well, if you’re sure…” Jack scratched at his nose and then tapped his chin in thought. “Oh! I know! How about neigh?” 

Theo shrieked, and Nicholas groaned. “No, Daddy! _Hoses_ say neigh!”

“ _Horses_ say neigh?” Jack feigned astonishment once more, and this time Katherine joined the boys in their laughter. They continued this game up to entrance of the World Building, where Eleanor finally stopped skipping and the hilarity petered out. 

“So, I’ll… I’ll see you this evening, then?” Katherine said, pulling her hatpin two inches forward and then pushing it right back.

“Yeah,” Jack said gruffly, avoiding her eyes. “That, uh… Yeah. Have a good day at work.” 

“When’s _Daddy_ gonna go to work?” Eleanor piped up, sinking onto the sidewalk and rolling onto her back, folding her chubby arms over her chest.

“Eleanor!” Katherine chided. “Stand up! It’s filthy down there!”

Ellie huffed and stood, but she asked her question again, too. This time so loudly that even passers-by could hear. 

Jack turned away, fixing his gaze on some indefinable point in the middle distance. Katherine knelt to brush the worst of the dirt off of her daughter and then laid a gentle hand on Eleanor’s cheek. “Daddy’s working from home right now. You know that.” Eleanor pushed out her lower lip, and Katherine raised an eyebrow. “And he’ll go back to working in his office when—” 

“When his hand and his headaches are better,” Eleanor chorused grumpily. 

“That’s right,” Katherine said, straightening. “So it’s going to take some time yet, but in the meantime you get more days with Daddy. And that’s nice, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Eleanor said, heaving a sigh, “But…” She started to sniffle. “I miss the crayons!” 

Katherine’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The crayons,” Ellie said, her voice growing thicker as she cried. “I miss the desk crayons, Mommy! I haven’t visited them in seventy-thirty years, an’ they’re so lonely! They’re sad in the drawer!” 

“Ah,” Katherine said, resisting the urge to rub her forehead in both amusement and exasperation. She had several interviews scheduled with Wall Street financiers today, and she needed her makeup to stay fresh. “Well, Bunny, I—” 

“We c’n go visit the crayons,” Jack interrupted.

“What?” Katherine asked, as Ellie continued to cry.

“It’s gotta be a quick visit,” Jack admonished, his shoulders tense, “But we c’n go.” 

Katherine sent him a questioning look, but Jack was still staring off into the elsewhere, and Ellie was still crying, so she refocused on her daughter. “Did you hear that, muffin? Daddy said we can go visit the crayons, okay?”

“They’re so sad without me!” She sobbed, sinking back down onto the sidewalk. 

“Well, how about we go say hello to them, alright? Would you like that, Eleanor? Do you want to go visit the crayons?” 

“Yeeeeeeeees!” Ellie wailed. “I do, Mommy, I do, oh, _please!”_

“Okay, Bunny, okay,” Katherine said, crouching to pull Eleanor back up. “We’ll go see the crayons now. But you don’t want to make them sad by crying when you see them, right? You want to make them happy, don’t you?” 

“Uh huh,” Ellie nodded, her face even redder than her curls.

“Then you have to stop crying, muffin,” Katherine said, whipping a handkerchief out of nowhere and mopping up the tears and mucus streaming down her kindergartener’s face. “Deep breaths, alright? It’s all okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

“Kay,” Ellie sniffled, still crying, although now with less intensity.  

By the time the family made it to Jack’s office, Ellie was clingy but pleased, Nicky had realized they were going to the “fun” office (Katherine’s, in contrast to Jack’s, had no art supplies), and Theo was babbling about the elevator ride. 

“Ding ding, Mommy!” He announced, mimicking the sound the elevator made when it stopped at a new floor. “Go ding ding!”

“That’s right, Bear, the elevator says ‘ding.’” Katherine pushed the stroller out into the hallway and looked worriedly at Jack. He’d jammed both hands into his pockets and was standing stiffly in the foyer, staring beyond his children at the scrum of illustrators that lay just beyond a set of crystal-clear glass doors. “Jack?” She said, taking a step closer. “I can make something up, take Ellie in myself—you and the boys can head to my floor and I’ll meet you there in a minute?” 

He grunted, shook himself, and pushed the door open, holding it for Katherine and the stroller and their excited little girl, who half-hopped and half-ran into the open office.

“Jack!” The head illustrations editor, still known to Jack only as Mr. Nolan (no first name had ever been forthcoming), stood up as soon as Jack entered the illustration wing. “I wasn’t expecting you back yet; welcome, welcome!”

Katherine’s heart lurched as she saw Nolan bustle out from behind his desk to shake Jack’s hand, and she was already jumping in with a white lie to extricate her husband from the situation when Jack cut her off. “It’s more just a quick visit, sir,” he said, shaking hands with the editor as best he could and flashing a brilliant smile. “But it’s good to be back, even if it’s just to pick up some assignments in person this time.” 

“Wonderful,” Nolan said, clapping Jack on the back. “You’ve been sorely missed here, let me tell you. The younger men have all been somewhat adrift without your steadying advice, and I can’t even count how many letters we’ve gotten from the public begging for your political cartoon to return to daily status.” 

“Well, I’m gratified to hear that, sir,” Jack said, and Katherine noted that he was standing taller than he had in weeks. “Doctor says I’ll likely need a couple more weeks, but believe me, I’ll be back as soon as I’m cleared.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper and added, “I’d come in even before that, if I’m being honest, but I’ve got a wife who actually looks out for me, so I gotta behave.” 

Nolan smiled at Katherine and nodded. “Yes, indeed. Listen to your better angel, Mr. Kelly, and come back when you’re truly ready. Your desk will keep until then, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, his voice steady and his stance sure, and Katherine did a double-take, not trusting the evidence immediately in front of her.

 _He looks like… He looks like he did before the… before…_ Her breath caught and her heart flipped. _That’s my husband_ , she thought, and tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. _That’s Jack. There he is, right there. My love. My own dear boy. Oh, how I’ve missed him._

She turned away to hide her emotions from him and bent down to Eleanor. “Wait a minute, muffin—let Daddy talk to his boss, and then we’ll all go to his desk together, alright?”

“But I wanna go now!” Ellie whined, then, at a glare from Katherine, amended her attitude and said, “Please, can we go now?” 

Jack led his family over to his desk, and although Katherine was watching him like a hawk, she didn’t see so much as a stutter-step from him. _If I hadn’t seen him frozen on the sidewalk just now_ , she thought, _I’d think he was fine. Utterly, completely fine._ She marveled as he tugged out the scrap paper drawer, found the broken crayons he kept for the children to use, unbuckled Nicholas and Theodore, and crouched to smile and nod as Ellie introduced him to each and every crayon in turn. 

“… an’ this one is Mrs. Yellow—say hello to her, Daddy—an’ this one is Mr. Red…” 

 _He’s so patient_ , Katherine thought, watching Jack play along with Eleanor and effortlessly tug Theo into his lap to keep the toddler from crawling away. _And in front of his colleagues, too…_ Was this really the same man who had screamed at her last night for throwing out a heel of bread that the children refused to eat?

Of course, she knew from experience—from the way she had lived her own life, from watching her parents, from marrying Jack and working as a reporter and being an imperfect person in a broken world—that sadness and pain and anger and fear could roil underneath without ever breaking the surface. She knew that nearly all adults were excellent actors whose performances kept her heart from breaking a thousand times over every single day. She knew that every stranger she saw had a rich inner life that was masked by necessity and propriety and the fundamental disconnect that kept each person an island unto themselves. 

So even though, in some ways, she knew Jack as well as it was possible to know someone—knew his moods, his manners, his cues, his inclinations, his likes and dislikes, his body, his heart—she was reminded every single day that in other ways she didn’t know him at all. That maybe she never would. But… did she need to? Did she _want_ to? Was that the only way forward? To know him fully?

“Jack,” she whispered, not meaning to speak but unable to stop herself.

He raised his eyes to hers and arched an eyebrow in response.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Daddy, I drawed dis fa you!” Nicholas said proudly, holding up a sheet with several scribbly lines, a big circle, and a smaller, overlapping blob. 

“Ooh!” Ellie said, crawling over to look at it. “Nicky, it’s beautiful!” She gave her brother a big hug and patted him on the head. “You’re getting so good at art! Just like me an’ Daddy!” 

This time Katherine could practically watch the storm surge build within Jack, seeing his muscles seize, his breaths tighten, his eyes dim. 

Nicholas, all unwitting, scooted over to Jack and leaned trustingly on his father’s thigh, holding the picture out in front of them. “It’s you an’ me, Daddy! Wiffa big boat.” 

Jack ruffled Nicholas’ hair, stood, and tacked the drawing on the wall by his desk, hanging it with the other pictures his children had given him. 

“Another piece for the Kelly Art Museum,” Katherine quipped, drawing her children’s attention away from Jack. “Pretty soon we’ll have to build another wing for all of your work, my darlings.” 

“A wing?” Ellie asked, knitting her brows together. 

“It’s a fancy word for a lot of rooms,” Katherine clarified, starting to pick up the crayons. “Are you all ready to go? I think Nicky has some big plans for you all today—isn't that right, Bug?”

“Yeah!” Nicky said, dropping a fistful of crayons into the open drawer of Jack’s desk. “Gonna pway cars!”

“I want the Dudly Bug,” Eleanor announced.

“I getta O-We-Go,” Nicholas said. “Theo haves the Tomby.”

“ _Twombley,”_ Ellie corrected sagely. “Okay. Let’s go, Daddy,” she said, turning to her father, who was still staring at the drawings hanging on the wall, his eyes flicking between his children’s scribbles and the cartoons he was most proud of.

“I might as well be three,” he muttered, turning away in disgust. “Thirty years of practice, gone in a night.”

“Jack—” 

“No,” Jack said. “Don't. I shoulda kept my mouth shut. Have a good day at work. Let’s go, kids.” 

Katherine buckled the boys back into the stroller and tried not to feel hurt when Jack didn’t peck her on the cheek before he and the children got onto the elevator. Refraining from obvious affection at their workplace was the proper thing to do, of course, but it had never stopped him before the… well, before. As the elevator doors slid closed, Katherine saw Ellie tug at Jack’s good hand and heard her ask, “Daddy, are you mad?” 

Jack was glad that the elevator was moving away from Katherine now, that she couldn’t hear their daughter trying to fix his emotions like some sort of fancy doctor or snake oil salesman or— 

“Daddy?” 

He blinked. “No, Eleanor. I’m not mad.”

“Well, you _look_ mad.”

 Jack sighed. “I’m just frustrated, Bunny.” 

“Why? Didn't you like Nicky’s picture?”

“No, that's not it—Nicky drew a wonderful picture.”

Nicky interjected here. “Yeah!” 

“Yeah!” Theo echoed.

Ellie pursed her lips. “But you look like you did when Mommy gave us our bath.”

“Well, I wasn’t angry when—” Jack broke off. Oh. He _had_ been angry with Katherine then, hadn't he. 

 _All he’d wanted was to grab a washcloth, but then—“What are you_ doing?!”

_Katherine was sitting on the tile floor, soaping up the children, making sure Theo didn’t drink the bathwater, keeping Nicky from crying about being wet, helping Ellie pat shampoo into her hair—Jack’s voice was a sharp interruption. She looked back over her shoulder, confused. “Washing the children.”_

_“That’s not—” He ground his teeth in frustration. “Are ya tryin’ ta_ drown _‘em? Look how much water ya got in there!”_

_“You can’t bathe three children without water, Jack.”_

_He stalked over to the tub and dipped his hand in, scooping up a pile of bubbles. “An’ this—just pour the whole bottle in, why don’t ya? There ain’t no reason ta—”_

_“They’re_ dirty _, Jack. And the bubbles make it look like I used more soap than I did. It wasn’t that much; just a little.”_

 _“A_ little?” _He growled and snatched the bottle of liquid soap from the corner of the tub, shaking it so they could both hear how much (how little) there was left. “Just use it all. Just use it all!” He unscrewed the cap and let it pour out. “Ain’t like it costs money or nothin’, ain’t like it’s wasteful, ain’t like—”_

_“Jack!” Katherine snapped, seeing the children’s wide eyes. “You need to leave.”_

_“Oh, so now you’s tryna—”_

_“You_ promised _,” Katherine hissed. “We promised.”_

 _His eyes flashed, but she had him there. No fighting in front of the children. Not ever. They’d promised. They didn’t always succeed, but they’d promised. “This ain’t over,” he said, and left the room._  

He scrubbed at his face and sighed. He’d forgotten about that. Mostly. And besides, he thought he’d managed to transmit his anger over his children's heads and on a wavelength that only Katherine would see, but… Clearly he hadn’t. What was _wrong_ with him, anyway? What did it matter how much soap Katherine used? She wasn’t hurting anyone, the kids liked the bubbles, and it definitely wasn’t something worth fighting about. He had to do better, dammit, he had to— 

“Daddy?” 

Jack startled and then brushed at his nose. “Right. Well, I’m upset about my drawings, astoreen.” 

“Why?”

“Because they aren’t as nice as the ones I used to draw.”

Ellie thought about that, a wrinkle forming between her distinctive eyebrows as she considered her father’s words. “No,” she said eventually, rocking forwards and backwards on her shiny, perfectly-fitted shoes. “That’s true—the older ones are nicer.” 

Jack nodded. “Yeah. And that makes me sad.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Eleanor said, turning to look up at him and wrapping her arms around his right leg. “You’re a silly moose.” 

Jack did a double-take. “Say again?”

Ellie laughed and turned to press a kiss to his corduroys, her lips leaving light wet marks on the fabric. “You haven’t practiced with your new hand yet!” She shook her head and smiled. “Silly Daddy. You hafta practice to get good! Just like you told me, ‘member?”

Jack tried not to look surprised. “I did tell you that, didn’t I.”

“Mhmm!” Ellie grinned, her dark eyes shining. “Your baby hand is too little be good like your old hand already! You gotta be patient, okay?” She tried to pat his leg again, but they were moving now, walking from the elevator out to the street, and she missed. She was unfazed, though, and took several small steps to catch up to Jack’s longer stride. “An’ Daddy—d’you know what?” 

Jack lifted a hand from the handle of the stroller to adjust his cap. “What?” 

“ _I_ think your drawin’s are _gorgeous_.” She beamed up at him, his tiny daughter, her halo of red curls and her bowed lips giving her the aura of a juvenile pre-Raphaelite beauty. He sucked in a breath as images of her future came flooding in—Eleanor at her confirmation, Eleanor standing next to her first beau, Eleanor attending college, Eleanor leaving home—Jack stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, chest heaving. Ellie pulled up short, too, confused. “Daddy?”

“I’m okay, it’s okay,” he gasped, trying to convince himself just as much as his children. “I just—my lungs—”

“Oh, like Uncle Charlie,” Ellie said, and moved to hold the stroller still so that Jack could stretch his arms up and expand his ribcage. “Deep breaths, an’ no coughing on Theo.” 

He felt the crazy urge to laugh at that, at the way she always responded calmly to all of the bizarre situations she kept finding herself in, at her high-pitched voice echoing Katherine’s advice to the children when they’d all had colds last winter, at being stuck in the middle of New York City with three children and a broken brain and lungs that seemed intent on killing him. “Thanks, Bunny,” he wheezed, and waited until his head and his chest had settled enough for him to lower his arms. “Let’s go home, okay?” 

“Time’a pway cars!” Nicholas cheered, and Theo yawned and began sucking on his index finger.

“Time for Theo to nap,” Jack said under his breath, and steered them all towards home.

 

*

 

“Alright, Crutchie,” Jack said, taking a seat at the bar. “Why’re we here?”

“What, can’t a guy catch up with his old pal?”

Jack rolled his eyes and slugged Charlie in the shoulder. “Not when they’s catchin’ up at a bar an’ the guy knows his old pal don’t drink.”

Charlie sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t know where else ta take ya,” he confessed. “I swear, Jackie, you’s the only man I know what don’t drink—why couldn’t ya be normal f’r once?”

“I fuckin’ wish I knew,” Jack muttered, turning away from Charlie and rubbing his forehead.

“I wanted ta build up ta this an' intr'duce it all easy an' natural-like,” Charlie said apologetically, “But ya rumbled me already, so I’ll just jump right in." He cleared his throat. "I’s worried about ya, boss. Kath is, too.” 

“Well, so am I!” Jack snapped, whipping around to face his friend. “I’s turnin’ inta my old man, Crutch, an’ I don’t know how ta stop it!” 

“You are not!” Charlie snapped back. “I brought ya ta a damn _bar_ an’ ya still ain’t drinkin’!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I oughta fix that,” Jack growled, raising a hand to catch the bartender’s attention. 

“Oh no ya don’t,” Charlie said, pushing Jack’s hand flat onto the worn wooden counter. “You ain’t gonna sabotage yourself on purpose. You’s got enough problems just poppin’ up on their own without you makin’ any more by bein’ dumb.”

“Well, I _am_ dumb,” Jack shot back. “So I might as well live up ta it.” 

“Fuck, I need a drink,” Charlie said, shaking his head at Jack. “Why d’ya always do this, huh? Why d’ya get so mean ta yourself over things that ain’t your fault?” 

“Ohhhh, okay,” Jack mocked. “Is that what’s goin’ on here? Well in that case, Mr. Wise Guy, exactly what about this ain’t my fault?”

“Ya didn’t ask ta get kidnapped or have ya hand smashed or—or any of it!” Charlie said, waving his hand at Jack. “An’ then you’s been havin’ trouble handlin’ it—of course ya are, who wouldn’t? Ya didn’t just wake up an’ _decide_ ta be an ornery old bastard—you’s doin’ your level best, but sometimes things gets too much an’ ya snaps. Ev’ryone does sometimes.”

“Don’t make it right,” Jack said. 

“I didn’t say it did.” 

“Well, that’s the rub, ain’t it? Even if what you’s sayin’ is on the money, even if I can’t help alla the screamin’ and the—the… well, even if it ain’t my fault that I _wants_ ta yell, it _is_ my fault that I’s actually doin’ it. An’ it’s still wrong, too.” 

Charlie shook his head and drummed his fingers on his thigh. “It ain’t about blame, Jackie. ‘S about you gettin’ better. Whadda we gotta do ta make that happen?”

“Hell if I know!” Jack exploded. “What’s the point of this, kid? Why’s ya reamin’ me out in public an’ askin’ me stuff I can’t answer?” 

“I—” 

“This ain’t helpin’, Crutchie. I’m leavin’.”

“Hey!” Charlie said, grabbing onto Jack’s arm. “No. Get back here. I call do-over.”

Jack growled. 

“Do-over,” Charlie insisted.

Jack closed his eyes and sat back down on the bar stool. “Fine. Hello, Crutchie, what a lovely evenin’, great weather we’s havin’, whad’ya want.”

“Hello, Jackie, I knows ya been havin’ a rough go of it lately, an’ I cares about ya. Ya wanna talk about any of it? Anythin’ I c’n do ta help?” Jack kept his eyes closed, and Charlie leaned in closer. “Ain’t nothin’ I won’t do for ya, Jackie. Nothin’ at all. Say the word an’ I’m there. Ya don’t gotta go it alone, okay?”

“I know,” Jack said finally, his voice low, his head bent so that his forehead was nearly touching the cool wood of the bar. “I know. But how d’ya… how’s a guy ask f’r help or… or… how’m I s’posed ta… words ain’t…”

Charlie nodded. “No. No, they ain’t, that’s true. But you c’n… I mean… Well, yellin’ don’t mean you’s your dad, ya know?” 

“How d’ya stay so cool alla the time, huh?” Jack asked, tilting his head slightly towards Charlie. “I ain’t never seen ya yell at no one.”

Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. I just don’t really need ta? I mean, it don’t make me feel better.” 

“It don’t make me feel better, either,” Jack muttered. “Not f’r more’n a bit, anyway. But I still do it.”

“Hmm.” Charlie ran a finger around the inside of his collar and took a moment to think. “Well, I mean, I _do_ get mad...” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah; I mean, I ain’t made of stone. But I guess I… Well, I go do stuff, ya know? Ta work off the steam. An’ I talk ta Rosie about things, too. Just have her listen.” 

Jack rubbed his nose and shook his head. “I can’t do the stuff that I used ta do ta work off the steam, though, kid. That just… it just ain’t a... I mean, tryna do art just makes me madder, an’ I can’t seem ta… I get these headaches, an’ ‘m tired all the time, an’…” 

“So talk ta Kath.”

Jack groaned. “You two is in cahoots.”

“Why, has she already toldja ta do that?” Jack glared at Charlie, who raised his hands in innocence. “Don’t look at me! I dunno what Kath’s said an’ what she hasn't.”

“Yeah, she has,” Jack said, slumping further forward. “I just… Well, I don’t want her ta know about alla that stuff, ya know? It ain’t no Sunday picnic in the park.” 

Charlie laughed grimly. “No, it ain’t.”

“You ever told Rosie about your stuff?” 

Charlie rubbed at a stain on the wooden bar. “Some. Not all. Like ya said, it ain’t easy, an’ some of it she don’t gotta know.”

“So ya get it.” 

“ ‘Course I do!” Charlie said, indignant. “But if I wakes up in the middle of the night or I gets real jittery about somethin’ or I gots ta leave the room I’s so mad—them’s the things I tell her about. Them’s the things she’s gotta know.”

“Fuuuuck,” Jack moaned, finally laying his head on the counter. “I buried alla this shit ten feet deep _years_ ago, Crutchie,” he said, his arms dangling listlessly by his side. “It was taken care of, I was fine, an’ then fuckin’ _Chambers_ has ta bring it all right back up…” He gave a weak laugh as Charlie reached out and began patting his back. “Thanks, kid.”

“Ain’t been a kid f’r more’n twenty years, Jackie,” Charlie teased. 

Jack laughed again. “True.” He raised his hand for the bartender and ordered a beer for Charlie and a soda for himself. They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping at their drinks, each staring at the liquor bottles stacked neatly on the shelves behind the bar. Then Jack cocked his head and turned to Charlie. “Ya ever wanna pick one’a them things up an’ just… throw it against a wall?” 

“What, a big glass bottle?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Huh,” Charlie said. “I ain’t never thought about it, but I guess it could be fun.” 

“Right?” Jack’s eyes crinkled, and then he broke into a genuine smile. “Hey, Crutch—I think—I think that’s somethin’ I could go do! Go work off the steam, just like ya said.” 

“By throwin’ bottles?!”

“Yeah!” Jack enthused, undeterred by Charlie’s skepticism. “Yeah, I could go out in the alley an’ just like… smash stuff, ya know? I think that’d be good. I think I’d like it.” 

“Uh, okay,” Charlie said, taking another sip of his beer. “Liquor’s expensive, though.”

Jack pooh-poohed that with a wave of his hand. “Ain’t gotta be full bottles. Just empty glass stuff that’ll smash nice an’ easy. Like the bottle ya got right there,” he said, motioning at Charlie’s beer. “Throw some’a those around an’ then bare my fuckin’ soul ta my fuckin' saint of a wife.” 

Charlie laughed. “Whateva works for you, chief.” 

Jack grinned. “Yeah. Yeah. I, uh—I think I’m gonna head home now, yeah? Gonna tell Kath’rine I’s had a good idea.” 

“Yeah, an’ then tell her ta go out an’ buy some empty bottles,” Charlie said, his eyes twinkling.

“Now you’s got it,” Jack said, clapping Charlie on the back. “Thanks, kid. Uh… man. Person.” 

Charlie smiled back. “Anytime, Cap’n Jack.”

 

*

 

“I’m home!” Katherine called. Her words were quickly followed by a grunt and the sound of clinking glasses, and everyone in the apartment—including Mitzi the cat—came running towards her. 

“Mommyyyyyyyyy!” All three children yelled, racing down the hallway. Theo was bringing up the rear, his teddy bear clutched firmly in one hand. Eleanor, the leader of the pack, was grinning as she ran, her curls bouncing wildly, and Nicky was only a few steps behind Eleanor until he tripped over his own feet, fell forwards, and thudded to the ground. This didn’t deter him for long, however; he spent so much of his time falling down that it didn’t really bother him anymore.

“My babies!” Katherine greeted them with open arms and drew them all in close, squeezing them until they squirmed and giggled. 

Mitzi twined herself around Katherine’s legs, purring and rubbing her head back and forth across Katherine’s button-up boots. 

And Jack? Jack stood in the hallway, a slight smile on his face, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Hello, macushla.”

“Dear heart!” She exclaimed, her eyes shining as she looked up at him. “I brought your bottles.” 

He straightened, his eyes lighting up. “You did?” 

“Right there!” Nicky said, pointing to the crate of empty assorted glass bottles just inside the doorway.

“Perfect,” he breathed, taking a step closer. 

“Go on,” Katherine urged. “I’m going to catch up with my little darlings; you take the crate out back and make a mess.”

Jack beamed, gathered up the crate, and slipped out of the apartment.

He stayed away much longer than Katherine had expected; she ended up feeding the children their dinner and putting them to bed all by herself. And for once in her life, it wasn’t even hard—for whatever reason, tonight all three Kelly hellions were perfectly behaved, winsomely obedient, and sweetly affectionate. Once the children were down for the night, she got ready for bed, too, figuring she’d read until Jack returned. It had been a long day, though, and she wasn’t sure she could manage to stay awake much longer, but… she’d try.

She heard the front door click back open over an hour later, right as she finished kissing a sleeping Eleanor on the forehead (she always liked to check on the children right before heading to bed herself). A jingle and a soft thump told her that Jack had hung up his keys and set the wooden crate on the floor, but instead of getting up to greet him, she stayed crouched by the bedside for a minute longer. She listened to Jack shuck off his boots and pad to the shower, trying to tell if his odd idea and his time outside had done him any good. He sounded… well, you couldn’t really gauge a mood by sound alone, could you? Not always, anyway. Not reliably. 

 _I can hope_ , she thought, pulling the topsheet over her. It was still the dog days of summer, but she’d never been able to fall asleep without a cover of some sort. _I can hope and pray and… Please, God, please let him get better._  

He crawled into bed next to her not long afterwards, his hair still wet and smelling of pine from the shampoo she’d bought him two weeks ago. “Ace?” He murmured, scooting to the center of the bed. “You awake?” 

“Mhmm,” she said, by now no more than half-conscious. 

“I feel better,” he said wonderingly, reaching out and pulling her close. “I… I don’t quite believe it, but I… I feel a little more like myself.”

She squeaked as he moved her, but then his words and his touch registered like a firework in her brain, and her eyes flew open. “Wait. Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, kissing the top of her head and smiling at the halo of curls that welcomed him there. “It’s nice.” 

“ _So_ nice,” she said, nuzzling into his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Then she pulled back abruptly and shifted away from him. “Hang on. Is this okay? Me touching you? I’m sorry, I just—I forgot myself for a second there.”

He nodded, and she nestled back up against him. He laid his head back atop hers, placing him so close to her that, even in the gloom of the night, she could see him swallow and try to gather himself. “Ace, I… I’m so sorry for bringing us back to where we were more’n ten years ago,” he said, his voice wobbly. “I hate that I’m this skittish colt again, an’ I hate that I yell at you for no good reason, an’ I hate that you have to ask permission for every little touch.” His hands tightened on her back and then relaxed. “I… I wish I didn’t need you to do that, but I do, an’… an’ thanks for understanding. I'm sorry, I really am, an' just... thanks f'r bein' patient.” 

“You’re welcome,” she said softly, hoping he could tell just how sincerely she meant it. “I hate it, too, but I still love you, my darling, and I always will. No matter what. You’re my heart, Jack, and even on your worst days, I don’t think I could…” She felt the tears begin to well, and her voice grew thick. “I _love_ you, Jackie. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Not even if… not even if you knew that I… what my da…” He shook his head, pushing the thoughts out. “Or… what if ya knew what happened after he died an’ I…” His breath snagged, and she felt his muscles growing ever-tenser. “Or the things that I…”

“No, Jack,” she said immediately, surely, firmly. “Not even then. Not ever,” she soothed, and pressed a kiss to his collarbone.

“Okay, then,” he said, feigning calm. She knew instantly that he was faking; she could feel his heart beating frantically against her cotton night dress. 

“Why don’t you try me?” She asked gently. “Talk to me, love. Tell me what happened. Tell me something that scares you, and then let me prove to you that I’ll love and respect you no matter what.”

Jack whimpered and wrapped his legs around hers, shaking his head against her hair. “I… Kath’rine, please, I…” 

“Trust me, Jackie. Give me a chance.” 

Jack licked his lips and cleared his throat a couple of times, trying to work up the courage to speak. When he finally did, it was in a low, barely-audible whisper, but Katherine was so proud of him she thought her heart might burst. “When I was six or seven,” he said, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, I…” He coughed and tightened his grip on her. “No. No, please, I…” 

She tried not to let her disappointment show. “Alright, darling. Okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to.” 

“Ace,” he said, his voice broken. “Katherine… I want to, I do, I just don't want you to have to… It’s going to be hard, and I…” He made a muffled noise and rolled away from her.

“Right,” she said, her voice a shade too high and a shade too chipper. “Well, I’m glad the glass bottles helped some, and I hope you sleep well. Good night, Jack.”

She fell asleep, her heart aching, her arms wrapped around herself.

 

*

 

It was dark. Was she dreaming? She couldn’t tell. Her left arm was dangling off the bed, and her right was… cradling Jack’s head? Was that Jack? Was that why she was awake? _Was_ she awake? She—oh! Oh, he was talking! Focus, Katherine, wake up, what is he saying, what is he—

“…know we don’t hafta worry the way I did growin’ up, I _know_ that, but bein’ in the dark an’ hungry an’ alone, wearin’ raggedy clothes an’ treated like shit… it happened so fast, ya know? I spent the last, what, fifteen years workin’ my way inta respectability—sorta, anyhow, much as a guy like me could eva’ be respectable—” He gave a breathy laugh and kissed her cheek, “An’ then it was all just gone in a flash. I was right back where I started, right back with nothin’, bein’ treated like a nothin’, like a worm, like a dog, just like when my da died, an’ I guess… What if somethin’ like that happens ta you an’ the kids?”

She felt his hand tighten on her hip. “What if ya mom cuts us outta her life, what if the trust fund disappears, what if we lose our jobs an’ end up… if we…” His voice grew choked. “I don’t want Ellie sellin’ papes at age five like I did. I don’t want Nicky wearin’ raggedy clothes what don’t keep out the cold in winter. I don’t want Theo cryin’ at night ‘cause his belly’s so empty he can’t sleep. Those things happened ta me, Ace, an’ I thought they was normal so I managed, but… now I knows life don’t hafta be like that f’r kids. Now I knows they c’n grow up safe an’ loved an’ without a fuckin’ care in the world, an' I'll do ev'rythin' I can ta make sure that's what our babies get. Hell, Ellie cries about _crayons,_ Ace—you think she’d last a minute in my shithole of a childhood? No way.” 

She bit her lip and tried to stay still as he continued to speak. “An’ I worry about you, too, ya know—I don’t want you ta… _Dammit_ , Kath’rine, I… I only barely remember my ma, but I know I don’t want you tryna survive in a squalid, stinkin’ dump like the one she lived an’ died in. She died in her bed like she was a… Well, she were just a shadow of herself at the end, ya know? Her eyes wouldn’t close all the way no more an’ she just… she stopped breathin’ but her eyes was still half-open, an’ she looked like… she didn’t look like my ma no more, right? She was skinny an’ gray an’ cold an’ I didn’t wanna go near her. My own mother, an' I didn't wanna go near her.” 

He shuddered. “I… sometimes I close my eyes an’ I mix you up with her, Ace. I see you in that tiny li’l room in the dark an’ the cold an… an’ all’s I wanna do is hold ya tight an’ take you away from this damn city, but… it ain’t the city that’s the problem, is it? Nah." He shook his head. "It ain’t the city, Ace; it's people. It’s life.”

Katherine took a deep breath, needing to release some of the tension that was building inside of her, and Jack quieted, waiting for her to subside into the shallow, even breathing that meant she was still asleep. “Oh, Kath'rine,” he murmured, his lips brushing delicately at her temple. “It’s _terrifyin’,_ macushla. I’s scared most all the time these days, an’ it’s so hard ta be normal when ev’ry little thing makes me wanna jump an’ run.”

He laughed and shook his head at himself. “Ridiculous, ain’t it? Here I am, a grown man, an’ I’m actin’ like a kid in short pants. But that’s the thing, I guess. I useta be scared all the time when I was little, but—I had a lot ta be scared of back then, didn’t I?” His voice was wry, and she knew he was smiling. “An’ that’s okay, that’s okay, but… I think the problem is that I… Well, I dunno that I ever stopped bein’ scared, ya know? I guess what I done is push all that fear down so deep that I’d kinda gotten ta the point where I could handle it, yeah? I’d... Well, I'd kinda forgotten what all there was ta be scared of an’ how scared I used ta be, but… Well, it’s all right back up at the surface now, so when I sees us not savin’ somethin’ we could, not scrapin’ an’ scroungin’ an’ squirrelin’ things away for the just in case—it makes my lungs go all funny an’ my head start ta squeeze.” 

He sighed. “An’ a month ago that fear was there, sure, but it was all squashed up in a tight ball in my chest, an’ I didn’t let it out an’ I didn’t think about it an’ I didn’t seem ta worry that someday it might come back out ta play...” His fingers trailed gently down her cheek. “But here it is, thanks ta good ol’ Chambers, an’ I… I just dunno how ta squash it back up again.” He fell silent for a moment, his fingers still brushing up and down, up and down. “I’s tryin’, though, love. I’s tryin’ real hard, Kath’rine, My Katherine." He kissed her forehead. "I promise you that. I swears it. An’… an’ I’s gonna get up the guts ta tell ya all this when you’s awake, too. Really. I don't know when, but I will. 'Cause I want to, I really do, but…” he kissed her forehead again, this time more fiercely. “You’s so tough an’ beautiful an’ untouched by alla this, alla the dark bits of my past, an’ I... Well, I don’t wanna spoil that. I don’t wantcha ta look at me an’ pity me or think I’m weak or feel like ya gotta treat me diff’rent on account of… well, on account of whatever thing ya wanna pick. You's plenty of options, after all,” he said, snorting. “A fucked-up kid with a fucked-up past, that’s me. How'd I ever get ta marry someone like you?”

He brushed the hair back from her brow and smoothed it back onto the pillow. “I’s sorry I’s been so difficult lately, Ace. I’s sorry the lit’lest things seem ta set me off. It ain’t right, it ain’t kind, it ain’t fair." He took a deep breath. "So I’s gonna do things diff’rently from now on, okay? ‘Steada screamin’, I’s gonna head outside an’ throw shit, kick walls, whatever it is I need ta do. I’s gonna tell ya when I feels like I’s gonna burst, an’ then I’s gonna leave afore it’s too late. An’... an' I’s gonna explain things ta ya once I’s cooled down. Like how I know we don’t gotta eat the hard end of the bread, an’ how I don’t even need us ta save it—that I was just upset ‘cause as a kid I woulda picked that thing up outta the gutter an’ swallowed it whole.”

He cuddled in closer and laid his head on her breast. “I am makin' you that promise, love. Right here, right now. An’ as soon’s I can, I’s gonna tell ya alla this when you’s awake, too, okay? It might take me a bit, but I will. I swear. An’… an’ in the meantime, please just… please just keep on bein’ patient with me, okay? I knows I’s been awful lately, a real fuckin' asshole, but… if ya c’n manage not ta give up on me, well, I promise I’s gonna get better. Really. I love you an’ the kids an’ the life we had t'gether, an’ I’s tryin’ so hard ta get back ta alla that. _Dammit,_ Kath'rine, I..." 

She felt a tear drop onto her nightgown, felt it soak a tiny spot into the cloth. "I wants us ta start over again, love. I wants us ta get old an’ gray t'gether, an’ I’s gonna do ev’rythin’ I can ta make it happen." His breath ghosted across her skin, and his voice dropped even lower. "I’s scared, Ace. I’s so fuckin’ scared that sometimes I can't breathe, but… I’s tryin’. Really. I just… I hope someday soon you c’n believe in me the way ya used ta. ‘Cause ya know one thing that ain’t changed, that won't never change? How much I loves ya. 'Cause I loves ya, Kath'rine Kelly. I loves ya so damn much it might just kill me. I wanna spend the rest of my life by your side, an’ I know I done a shitty job of showin' ya that lately, but I swear I am doin’ my absolute best ta make that somethin’ that you go back ta wantin', too.”

“I already want that, Jack,” Katherine said finally, bringing her left hand up to run it through his hair. “I always have.”

He stiffened, but, to Katherine’s surprise and relief, he didn’t pull away. “You… how long you been awake?” He sounded suspicious, and she hastened to reassure him.

“Not for your whole speech,” she said, her words coming a little bit funny on account of the late hour and the sleep-fog that was still covering her brain. “But long enough to hear why you’re worried and how what you’ve been through makes it hard for you when I do certain things.” 

He sucked in a long breath, then let it out. “Do ya hate me now?” 

“What? No!” She said, moving to rub his arm. “I’m really, truly glad to know all of that about you. It helps me understand you better. And I think with your new plan to leave a situation when you get angry and my new plan to throw old things away when you aren’t around, well, I think maybe things between us will start to get better.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice hopeful.

“Don’t you?” 

He smiled. “I do.” 

“Good,” she said, her eyes falling back closed. “And I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but… it turned out okay, right?”

“Better than okay,” Jack agreed. “In fact, I think I might just tell ya some more things pretty soon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, his breathing and his heartbeat beginning to even out. “It feels real good ta have alla that out in the open.” 

“And to know that I still love you?” 

He draped a leg over her, acting more casual than he felt. _“Do_ you?” 

“Very much,” she said, tilting her head to kiss his hair. “More and more each day.”

“I love you, too,” he breathed, finding her hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Sleep well, dear heart.”

“Love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I put this story on hold for forevvvvvver, but I am BACK with EIGHT THOUSAND WORDS FOR YOU, DEAR READERS! Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :D
> 
> Historical notes:
> 
> Names of cars are period-appropriate  
> The Episcopal church confirmed children at the age of 12 in the 1950s, so I just went with that here in order to sequence Jack's thoughts of Ellie in chronological order  
> Liquid soap was invented in 1865  
> Short pants were for little boys, who began wearing shorts and knickers instead of gowns and skirts at age 2 or 3; boys wore long pants starting at about age 12, and it was a meaningful transition, signaling that you were growing up.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack confesses things and Katherine provides historical documentation to prove a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Cursing. References to child abuse. Nothing specific, but of course that allows your mind to fill in the gaps. Starts at "Jack dropped his head and scuffed one bare foot against the floor." You can pop back in at "He laughed and wrapped a curl around his finger."

Jack had finished putting Theo down for his nap when Katherine came back from dropping the older two off at the American Museum of Natural History for a day out with Race and Spot. Some part of his brain registered that she had come home, but only dimly; the conscious part was absorbed by the image and text hung on the wall in front of him. He read and reread it, eyes flicking back up to the accompanying image before reading it again, even though he knew the article by heart (and had for years). He knew the expression on every face in the photograph, the wear on every comma in the story, the location of each smudge left by frequent handling and cheap ink… but he was simply unable to tear himself away from the yellowed newsprint. 

And so it was that Katherine caught him standing stock-still in the living room, staring at the clipping of an article she’d written nearly fifteen years ago. “Jack?”

Jack spun around and raised his fists in a defensive fighting stance, which he then quickly dropped. He forced a laugh and shrugged before turning back to the paper. “Who’d’ve thought we’d be here now, huh?” He sounded weary and nostalgic and angry all at once. “Look how hopeful we were—striking against the most powerful men in the city, thinking that just because our mugs were in the paper we’d be sure to get famous. That we’d change the world.” He exhaled slowly and shook his head. “What a gas, Ace. A bunch of underfed, underpaid newsies, dreaming of glory.”

“It sounds silly,” she agreed, moving to stand next to him, tentatively slipping her hand into his. “But those boys were right. They did change the world, and they’ll be remembered forever because of it.”

He ran his free hand through his overlong hair. He hated the floppy, unkempt length of it, but right now he hated that a lot less than he hated the idea of letting someone near his head with scissors or a razor. “Why can’t the past just fade? Why won’t it let me go?”

“You don’t mean the strike, do you,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“No,” he said, still staring at the framed article. “That part… that part was good. Mostly, anyway. I’m okay remembering that. But the rest…” He clenched his jaw, and Katherine saw the muscle twitch. “Well, I locked most of the rest up after I met you, and that seemed ta work just fine for years, didn’t it? A few hitches,” he acknowledged, thinking back to the nightmares she’d had to hold him through even back then, the times he’d occasionally punched her in his sleep, the sudden and seemingly unpredictable surges of panic that had rendered him useless and trembling for he didn’t even know how long. “But those…”

“I know. They’ve been pretty rare these last five years,” she said, filling in his silence.

He nodded. “So rare that I got dumb—got soft—thought I was over alla that. Thought I’d… thought I’d finally grown up, that I was someone you… well, that maybe other people would finally see that the two of us… that is, that you an’ me… ” He shook his head. “Ah, it was stupid. I shoulda known I’d never be good enough for you. Should’ve known not to forget that. But I did, an’ then Chambers knocked that knowledge back inta me, an’ now it’s all loose an’ rattlin’ around inside my head, an’…” He snorted. “Damn if it don’t hurt. A lot.”

Katherine made a small, pained noise, her lips parted, her eyes entreating. “Jack—you’re good enough for me. You always have been. You were good enough as a newsie, and you’re good enough now that you’re a—"

“A deadweight husband?”

She glared. “No! No. You’re not that at all, Jackie—even if you never went back to the office you’d never be that! Why can’t you see that you—oh, you’re worth so much, Jack! More than all the money my father ever made, more than all the Rembrandts in the Met, more than the checks you bring home each week or the chores you do around the house or the art you create! Jack, I—you’re worth the world, love. Why don’t you see that?”

He passed a hand over his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I think the better question is why you _do.”_

“Because I know you,” she pleaded, moving to stand in front of him and placing both of her hands on his shoulders, gripping them with enough pressure to be felt but not so much that he would feel cornered. “You’re a good man, Jack. You work hard at making your art as good as it can be, you’re a loyal friend, you love me even when I’m difficult, and you’re a wonderful, wonderful father. The children _adore_ you. They think you hung the moon—Nicky believes that literally, by the way. He refuses to be convinced otherwise, though heaven knows Eleanor has tried. You should ask him about it sometime. He’ll tell you exactly how you climbed up into the sky and stuck it fast with a tack.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across Jack’s face, but it faded in the space of a heartbeat. “I love ya for sayin’ that, Ace, but… It’s hard to be a good father right now.”

“Your hand is getting better and better every day,” she reassured him. “Soon you’ll be carrying them and dressing them and playing with them just like before.”

“It ain’t that,” he said, frowning. “That stuff… that stuff I c’n do just fine. Well, fine enough for them, anyway,” he amended. “They’re only little; they don’t know any better.”

“Okay,” Katherine said, a little confused. “What’s the problem, then?”

“It’s… well, when I look at them… seein’ them hurts,” he confessed, his voice low.

Katherine’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

Jack dropped his head and scuffed one bare foot against the floor. “Just that… Well, they…” he tilted his head back and blew out a deep breath. “A lotta the stuff I’m rememberin’ is stuff that happened when I was little. Stuff that happened well before I ever met Chambers. Kid stuff. Ancient history. I thought it was over an’ done.” He looked back down at her, trying to make eye contact, but his gazed slipped away, over her shoulder, unfocused and grim. “Alla this stuff that I… these things… Well, I didn’t think twice about any of it back then, ‘cause that’s just how things were—I didn’t know any different. I thought it was normal. Didn’t know enough ta know things _could_ be different, let alone that for lots of people they _were_ different—I had no idea that what was goin’ on… that it was wrong. I mean, I knew it was shameful, sure, an’ I knew damn well not to talk about it, but I just figured… I just figured it happened ta ev’ryone, right? I figured we all knew that it happened, but it was private stuff, an’ we all had some silent agreement to keep it behind closed doors. Just somethin’ ya gotta get through as part of growin’ up.”

Katherine’s eyes had widened and darkened and, had either of them been anything but fully absorbed in Jack’s words, they would’ve realized that her grip on his shoulders had grown so tight as to leave bruises. “What are you saying, Jack. What _exactly_ are you telling me.”

“Just that lookin’ at the kids is hard,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “When I sees them, I… It’s… F’r the first time in my life I’s realizin’ how damn _small_ I was when things started ta go wrong f’r me. Alla this time I thought it was normal, thought I deserved it, thought that I… thought that by the time it happened, I was old enough ta handle it.” He shuddered. “Not sure how I coulda possibly thought that, but I… I mean, part of me still does, ya know?” He opened his eyes and stared at her. No— _through_ her.

 _He’s not all there_ , Katherine thought, her heart pounding. _He’s stuck in the past, just like he said._

Jack’s eyelids fluttered uncontrollably until he finally forced them shut. “When I look at our children,” he said slowly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “When I look at them I am reminded of myself. Of all I went through. Of how powerless I was. Of how I let things happen because I simply didn’t know better. Because I had to, or else things would get worse. And when I look at them,” he said, his voice steady and deliberate even as his body began to tremble, “I am absolutely fucking terrified that things like that will happen to them, too. That they will be told the lies I was told. That they will be taught to keep things silent. That they will believe they deserve it. That they have to rely on themselves for safety and protection, because, when it comes right down to it, they are on their own.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he spoke again. “I could not live with myself if that happened to them, and I am just barely holding on knowing that someday it might. They are too young for that. I was too young for that. I was too young and—and it nearly broke me, Katherine. You don’t know—” his hands flew up to wrap around her wrists, and his eyes snapped open. “You don’t know what I was like back then. You don’t know how bad it got. If our children—” he inhaled sharply, his breath ragged. “My childhood nearly killed me, and if any of our babies have to go through what I did, then that _will_ kill me. The things I endured cannot happen to them. I could not survive that, and yet I am absolutely powerless to stop it.”

“Jack,” she breathed, raising her hands to cradle his cheeks and keep his eyes locked on hers. “That isn’t true. You’re a grown man now. You aren’t powerless anymore. What happened to you—whatever it was—it absolutely will not— _will not—_ happen to our children. Ever. They are not on their own the way you were, and every day we make sure they know it. Every time we hold their hands, every time we kiss them goodnight, every time we spread butter on their bread and tie their shoes and wash their hands and read them books, we are telling them that they are safe. We are telling them that they can trust us. We are telling them that they can tell us _anything_ , and we are telling them that we will protect them. Because we will do that, you and I. And not just us, either—my mother, your newsies, our friends, my siblings—all of us are mustered behind these children, and all of us will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. We will keep them safe, and they will not go through what you went through. I swear it to you.”

“How?” He breathed, his hands still locked around her wrists. “How can we know what happens every minute of every day?”

“We’ll ask them,” she said firmly. “We’ll ask them, and we’ll prepare them. You said you didn’t know what was normal and what wasn’t—we’ll make sure they do. When they come home today, we’ll sit them down and teach them. And then we’ll teach them again. And again. And again. And eventually they’ll remember it, and eventually they’ll believe it. That they can say no. That they can speak up. That they can leave and scream and come to us for help. That we will listen, and we will protect, and we will love them no matter what. How does that sound?”

“Good,” he said, his grip a little looser now. “I like that. I like… I like havin’ a plan.” He swallowed hard and took several deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heartbeat.

“Are you still scared?”

He snorted. “Fuckin’ petrified.”

“Me too,” she said, “But together we can do it. They’re already growing up differently than you did, and they are going to be okay.”

He nodded slowly, still unconvinced. “But what if…” He shook his head.

 _“If_ it happens, then we’ll deal with it,” she said, and his heart lifted at the steel in her voice. “And if it happens, then we will save them through sheer force of will if we have to. You and I are tougher than nails, dear heart, and together we will win out.”

“We always do,” he finished, his tone more hopeful, and she nodded.

“Yes.” They stood silent for a moment, gazing at each other, until they simultaneously stepped forward and moved into a tight embrace.

“Katherine,” Jack murmured, his head pressed against her shoulder, his face buried in her auburn curls. “Do you promise?”

“Unreservedly,” she said, and pulled him still tighter. When they finally broke away, his eyes were moist, and hers were fiery. “They are going to be okay, Jack,” she said, gripping his chin and glaring at him. At the world. At the future. “I will protect them with everything in me, and I will protect you, too. From your past, from yourself, from that brain of yours that won’t stop running.”

He laughed and wrapped a curl around his finger. “My brain don’t stand a chance against you, Ace.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, and the ferocity of her stance, of her look, of her words, made Jack think of an avenging angel. She meant what she said, and he believed she had the grit and the fury to back it up. Jack felt his muscles loosen and his fears begin to settle.

“Okay.”

“We’re not done,” she said sharply, refusing to let him go. He raised an eyebrow. “Look, Jack. Right now the worst thing that I think is most likely happen to our children is for you to check out on them. I know you’re scared, I know they’re small, and I know you don’t want to hear this, but—” she took a deep breath and barreled on. “If there’s anything this ordeal taught me, it’s that we aren’t guaranteed any time together beyond the time we’ve got right now. So while you’re here, you better make it worth it. You’ve got to love your children, and—” she bit her bottom lip, worrying her teeth over it as she debated whether to loose the words on the tip of her tongue. Then she gave a nod. “No. You need to hear this. You’ve got to love your children, and you’ve got to love me, too. I am alone, Jack. I am hurting, and I am alone, and I need you. I know that what happened with Chambers was hard for you, that it was excruciating beyond belief, but—it hurt me, too. I'm not comparing, but I am telling you that I have already lost my baby, and now I’m terrified that I’m going to lose you. I know we fight, I know we clash, I know we’ve been struggling, but I still want every minute with you that I can possibly have, Jack. Every. Damn. Minute. I love you more than words can express, and yet you keep think you’re not worthy of me, and so you keep pushing me away, and that’s got to stop. You are my equal, John Francis Kelly, and I refuse to let you think any differently.”

He gaped, blinked, then rapidly shook his head. “No, macushla. You don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll love you better from now, Ace, I’ll do that, I swear, but—we ain’t equals. I don’t deserve you, an’ I never have. It was a mistake thinkin’ any different, an’ I can’t let it happen again.”

“To hell with that,” Katherine said, her fingers digging into the soft flesh around his jaw, her voice nearly loud enough to wake Theo in the other room. “We’re a _team_ , Jack. You are my heart, and I cannot live without you. And if I’m so damn wonderful and good and—and—fucking brilliant, then you need to listen to what I say. And you know what I say, Jack Kelly? Do you? I say you’ve been enough for me since day one. _Day. Fucking. One.”_

His eyes were the size of saucers now, he was sure of it. “You don’t mean that.”

She laughed, and he startled at hearing a hysterical edge to it. “Don’t I? Ohhh, Jack. Don’t test me. I can prove it.”

He snorted, and she smiled, her eyes cold. “Wait here.”

He did as she said, not at all sure what was happening, how a quiet morning and a wistful reminiscence had turned into… well, whatever _this_ was, but… best to just listen and see what she had in mind.

“Here,” she said, striding into the room and jamming a book into his hands. “Proof.”

He frowned down at it. “A diary?”

She gave a sharp nod. “It’s mine. Open it to the bookmarked entry.”

He raised an eyebrow and thumbed it open, balancing the small book in his bent right hand. “July 20th, 1899,” he read aloud, then looked at her skeptically. “What is this, huh?”

“Keep reading.”

“July 20th, 1899,” he repeated, using his left index finger to keep his place in the girlish, looping cursive. “ _Dear Diary, Another miserable, misbegotten, misspent day reporting for the social pages._ ” He shoved it back at her. “I don’t see how this could possibly—”

“Just read it, Jack!”

“Okay, okay! Geez.” He cleared his throat and found his place. _“…misspent day reporting for the social pages. That’s how I usually start these entries, isn’t it? Today was different, though. Today was—_ ” his eyes flicked to Katherine. “Katherine? Where are you going with this?”

“Do you want me to read it _to_ you?”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll keep going.” He heaved a sigh, his tone begrudging. “ _Today was different, though. Today was glorious. Surprised? No more than I am, I assure you. It started ordinarily enough—Darcy escorted me to work the way he always does, the shop boys and cart drivers and newsies showered me with unwelcome sweet-talk, and I readied myself for a day of fighting petty little battles just to show that I deserve to be taken seriously. And believe me, I spent more than my fair share of time fighting today, fighting everyone who sees my long skirts and writes me off as useless, incompetent, weak… Well, by the time I made it to the theater for the show I was supposed to review, I was just about ready to curse God for making me a woman. Perhaps that’s a little dramatic, but honestly, most days I’d give my eyeteeth for a pair of long trousers and a neatly trimmed mustache. It wears on you, you know; the constant condescension, the snide remarks, the well-meaning men offering you assistance with basic tasks. I’m fairly certain that womanhood isn’t actually linked to any reduced mental capacity, but I have to admit, at the end of a long day, it’s hard not to feel that maybe the world is right—if everyone else is telling me that I’m fragile, incapable, stupid—well, it must be true, mustn’t it?”_ Jack looked up. “What, so I’m supposed ta see that as a teenager you had a little misplaced self-doubt, apply that ta myself, an’ then oh, yep, I’m cured now?”

“Impossible boy!” She scolded. “You’ll know it when you see it. Keep going.”

“You’re worse than my editor,” he muttered, but there was no venom behind it, and he resumed reading aloud. “ _That’s how I was feeling today. It had been a long day, and the show was uninspiring. All I wanted was to go home. I was sitting there all alone, pretending to take notes, when a man came into my private box. He was a boy more than a man, really, I suppose, but, well, he seemed so much more than a boy. I guess it was because he had the confidence of someone twice his age, a presence that nearly filled the whole box. Intoxicating. Luminous. It was all I could do to pretend to ignore him. I don’t know why I bothered—no, that’s not true. I didn’t want to give him the upper hand, to let him know that as soon as he’d entered the box I’d snapped to attention. It was a lost cause, though; I wanted to know more about him as soon as I laid eyes on him. He was, in a word, divine. And then he spoke—'Twice in one day, huh? Think it’s fate?’ and oh, I melted.”_ Jack slowed to a stop and lifted his eyes from the page to settle them on Katherine. “You’s gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“There’s more,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Go on.”

Jack obeyed, licking his lips and bending his head back down to the text. “ _His voice—it’s rich and full and makes you think that any second he’ll tell you a joke or whisper a secret or whisk you away somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. It’s a storyteller’s voice, I think. A leader’s voice. He was cocky and insufferable and clever and charming and somehow managed to bother me just enough that, heaven help me, I wanted him to stay. He’s clearly lower class—his accent and his clothes and his smell give that much away—but he treated me better than most of the men I meet at Mama’s soirees. In five short minutes, I could tell he thought of me as an equal, not as a piece of jewelry to be brought out and displayed on fancy occasions. Men don’t think that way about women, Diary. Not about me, anyway. But_ he _did—he looked at me with those gorgeous green eyes, bright and teasing, and he joked with me the way he would anyone else. He didn’t think of me as a breakable bit of china, as something that would shatter if placed under the least bit of pressure. He pushed me, and I pushed back, and neither of us yielded. I liked that. I liked_ him _._ ”

Jack’s voice thickened. _“He was clever and quick and talented—oh, you should see the drawing he made of me, it’s a marvel—and heavens, he’s handsome. Expressive and witty and determined and—I know it was only five minutes, Diary, but five minutes is more than enough to make an impression, don’t you think? A lasting one, too. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, this stranger with the brilliant smile and the laughing eyes and the wit to make you swoon, but I know in my heart that I will remember him forever. He was beautiful inside and out, this boy on the cusp of manhood, and I can only hope that I will someday find a man who makes me feel for a lifetime what he made me feel in the space of a single vaudeville song.”_

Jack’s throat was dry by now, but his eyes were anything but. _“It’s late now, so I will end with that. Goodnight, Diary. Love, Katherine.”_ He stared at the entry for several more seconds before finally sniffling and wiping at his eyes. “Damn.”

“Good damn?” Katherine asked, stepping forward to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear.

He laughed. “Very good damn. Best damn.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, then pulled her in and kissed her oh-so-kissable mouth.

“Do you believe me now?”

“I guess I hafta,” he said ruefully, staring down at the small, leather-bound book in his hand. “I don’t think you’ve had time lately ta make all that up from scratch.”

“Not with our three darling monsters to look after,” she agreed. “It’s the real deal, Jackie. When I say that I’ve admired you since the first day I met you—when I say you’ve always been enough for me and I’ve never wanted anyone else the way I want you—when I say that I desire you _still_ , after all these years—I mean it. They’re not empty words to cheer you up, Jack. I mean what I say, and I need you to believe that. To believe in me.”

He nodded, placing the journal gently on a side table. “I believe, macushla. I do.” He leaned down to kiss her once more, her lips parting in response to his tongue, her back bowing as he slid his hands down her spine to settle at her waist. They kissed until their lips were swollen, until Katherine’s hair was mussed and frizzed, until Jack’s mind whirled with the nearly-forgotten pleasure of his wife’s touch. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, somehow managing to find coherent words when they finally came up for air. “I’m going to be the man you always wanted. I promise.”

“You always have been,” she reminded him, kissing his cheeks, then his nose, then laying her head on his shoulder. “You always will be.”

“I’ll live up to it,” he said, gasping slightly as she kissed and then sucked at a spot on his neck. “Do you forgive me for not talking to you sooner? For getting stuck in my head?”

“Of course,” she breathed, then quickly added, “But only under one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Kiss me again.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mr. and Mrs. Kelly spend some time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> CW: some cursing, reference to miscarriage

Katherine awoke to the smell of pancakes and the warmth of three small bodies pressed up against her. Her eyes drifted open and shut a few times before she finally yawned and took stock—Theo in her arms, Eleanor pressed against her back, and Nicky draped across her legs. Moments later she heard Jack’s soft tread coming down the hallway, with Mitzi the cat’s pitter-pats following along behind.

“Oh! You’re up early,” Jack said, his voice low and tender as he placed a plate of pancakes on the nightstand. “You’re never awake before the children.”

“Mmm,” she said, yawning again and stretching her shoulders up and back. “Pancake smell.”

He smiled and bent to kiss her forehead. “There’s coffee in the kitchen,” he said, setting a knife and fork next to the plate of pancakes. “I just didn’t want to bring that in here with the kids—it’s harder to clean up spilled coffee than spilled pancakes.”

“Very true,” she said, loosening an arm from Theo to clasp Jack’s hand. “Thank you, love. This was a wonderful surprise.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his face brightening. “And this is just the beginning.”

Katherine’s brow furrowed. “Wait. The beginning of what? Of the rest of our lives?” 

“No, of—” Jack paused. “Hold on—you don’t know what today is?”

Katherine racked her brains for something meaningful and came up empty. “Um… It’s… Uh… It’s Tuesday, right?”

Jack’s lips twitched. “You really don’t know!” He snorted in amusement. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Give it a minute. And in the meantime,” he said over his shoulder, already leaving the room, “Enjoy the pancakes.”

“Jack?” Katherine called after him. “Jack, wait—what’s going on? What’s special about today? Jack? Jack! Ja—” she stopped as the children began to stir, their sleepy expressions fading quickly as they, too, smelled the pancakes. “So much for eating all of these myself,” Katherine said to herself, although she didn’t actually mind. “Good morning, my darlings! Are you hungry? Look, Daddy brought pancakes for you. Here, go ahead and sit up, and we’ll all have terrible manners together by eating them with our hands.” The children gasped and squealed in excitement, and Katherine dropped her voice to a whisper. “Shh, it’s a secret. Now sit up straight…”

 

*

 

Katherine was pacing around the writers’ room at _The World_ later that morning, still trying to puzzle out what on earth Jack thought was special about today. The pancakes hadn’t been the only deviation to the morning routine; Jack had also presented her with a pair of beautiful new earrings while she was getting dressed.

“Oh!” She said, her hands flying to her mouth and causing her long, auburn hair to slip out of her half-finished updo. “Jack! These are…” She reached out and took the box gently from his hands. “Oh, they’re stunning,” she breathed, lifting the perfectly matched purple pearls off of their velvet cushion. “It’s not my birthday, is it?” She asked wonderingly, turning her attention to the mirror so she could remove her ordinary white pearl earrings and replace them. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten when your own birthday is,” Jack teased, sweeping her hair back off her neck so she could admire the droplet earrings more effectively.

“I’ve obviously forgotten _something_ ,” she said, rubbing her fingers over the smooth pearls. “I just can’t think what.”

“It’ll come to you,” he promised. “By this evening, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Katherine said. “I feel fairly awful about it.” 

“Don’t,” Jack reassured her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’m enjoying your confusion.”

Katherine laughed and pulled him in for a real kiss. “Someone’s in a good mood today.”

He smiled. “A good mood for a good day. Now get a move on, star reporter—the world needs you.” 

Now, in the office, it hit her like a thunderbolt: Their anniversary. Their _tenth_ anniversary. “Oh!” She said, and dashed for the door. “Carter? I’m taking an early lunch!” She called, grabbing her handbag on the way out. “I’ll be back in an hour, I promise!”

“Jackie!” She yelled, bursting into the apartment. “Happy anniversary!” He poked his head out of the nursery, where he and the children were having a tea party for various stuffed animals, and Katherine flung herself into his arms. “You wonderful man,” she gushed, her weight throwing him off balance and causing them to topple sideways. She brushed her nose against his as they lay on the floor, listening to the children’s delighted giggles. “I love you.”

Jack beamed. “Did you run all the way back?”

She nodded as they sat back up, and Theo scooched over to hand Katherine a stuffed animal. “It hit me all of a sudden, and I had to come see you.”

Jack struggled not to laugh. “You could’ve just phoned!”

“But I had to _see_ you,” she insisted, setting the stuffed animal down and stretching up to kiss him passionately.

“Ace, whoa, hang on,” Jack said, eventually pulling away and taking her face in his hands. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“It’s the fifteenth anniversary of the newsboys’ strike,” she said, her eyes starry, “And we’ve been married for ten years.”

“Ten years?” Nicky echoed, setting down his toy car and looking over at his parents. “No! Tenty twenty fixty-too!”

“That’s right, Bug,” Jack laughed. “A very long time.” 

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Katherine said, her attention focused solely on Jack. “Ten years of marriage, Jack, and I still love being your wife. Being Katherine Kelly. Being with _you_.”

“And I love being with you,” Jack replied, setting his lips to the center of her scalp. “Let me take you out tonight? I’ve asked your mother to come over and booked us a hotel room.” 

“Dear heart!” Katherine exclaimed. “I’d love to, but… It’d be… It’d be just the two of us—are you sure?”  

Jack nodded. “We need some time alone, I think.”

“But you… Do you really want to do this?” Katherine said, biting her lip. “You don’t have to, you know. I can wait. I can be patient, I—”

“You’ve been more than patient,” Jack said firmly, “An’ tonight I wanna give you the attention you deserve. I’m ready, and I want to.” He swallowed hard. “Though if you don’t think… I mean, we don’t have to; we c’n always—”

“No, no, I want to,” Katherine broke in. “In fact, I’m just about dying to.” She grinned, and he smiled back. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, smoothing back his hair. “I’m on deadline, and I just—” she gave a startled laugh. “Oh! I just ran out of the office! Dear goodness.”

“Nice to know I still make you lose your head every now and again,” Jack said smugly, one eyebrow arched.

She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “Of course you do, you impossible boy.” She rose from the floor, bent to give each of the children a kiss, and then turned back to Jack. “Until tonight, darling,” she said, her face alight. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, macushla.”

 

*

 

Katherine emerged from the bedroom fully made up, her new earrings serving as the perfect complement to her elegant fern green dress, her hair in loose waves down her back.

“Are you sure you want me to wear it down?” She fussed, gathering it in her right hand and beginning to twist it into a workaday chignon. “It’s much fancier—more adult—more _appropriate_ when it’s up.”

“Stop!” Jack protested, rushing over and tugging her hand away. “I love when you wear it down. Please wear it down.” 

“But—”

“It’s how it was when I met you,” Jack coaxed, preventing her from moving to pull her hair back again. 

“I was a _child_ when you met me, Jack. I’m an adult woman now,” Katherine complained, but she stopped trying to rearrange her hair. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, stepping back to take her all in.

Katherine flushed and did a twirl to allay her embarrassment. “Tah dah! Feast your eyes on the thirty-two-year-old woman who’s had three children!”

“No, really,” he insisted, crossing his arms and giving a low whistle. “You’re stunning, Katherine. A marvel.”

She looked away. “How can you possibly say that?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, moving to her side and tilting his head to kiss her cheek.

“You really still…” her cheeks flamed scarlet. “You still find me attractive?”

Jack swore under his breath. “I’m sorry I ever gave you reason to doubt it,” he said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you, macushla,” he said, gripping her hands tightly. “It’s that I…” He exhaled forcefully. “I was scared I’d hurt you. Scared you didn’t want… whatever it was I’d become.” 

“Thank you,” Katherine said, laying her head against his chest. “I needed to hear that.” 

Jack squeezed her hands once more. “That ain’t the only thing I want to tell you tonight, though,” he said, his voice lightly teasing. “So should we get a move on?”

“Lead the way, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine said grandly, shifting to place her fingertips lightly on the crook of his elbow. “I’m ready for a night on the town.”

 

*

 

“First stop, dinner,” Jack announced, sweeping Katherine out of the taxi.

“At Jacobi’s?” She laughed. “I’m afraid I’m a bit overdressed. And so are you,” she added, motioning to his dove gray three piece suit, impeccably polished shoes, lavender tie, and slicked-back hair.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, ushering her through the crowded restaurant and up onto the rooftop. “We’re the only customers up here, so we set the dress code.”

“Do we now?” Katherine laughed, taking the seat he’d pulled out for her. She seemed to glow from within as she took in sight of the solitary table for two, the single long-stem rose that served as a centerpiece, and the view of the busy tenements around them. “Sweetheart, when did you plan all of this?”

Jack wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t _always_ nap when the kids do,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Sometimes I ring up fine establishments an’ ask ‘em to reserve a private table for a fella an’ his lovely wife.”

Katherine beamed, and Jack could’ve sworn she was made of starlight. “It’s perfect,” she said with a smile, nodding to the waiter who had just filled their glasses and lit a tapered candle at the table. “Thank you.”

Jack took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I do love you, you know,” he said earnestly. “And I know I haven’t been very… Well, I know I’ve made it hard lately, but I swear to you, Katherine, I _swear_ that I’m trying to do better.”

She smiled softly and nodded. “I know. And you have been. Thank you, dear heart.” 

He blinked rapidly and looked out over the city, taking some time to gather himself. As he returned his gaze to her, Katherine saw the worried look in his eyes. “Macushla, I…” He restarted. “Your patience has meant the world to me, even if I don’t always show it. And I…” He swallowed hard, and Katherine squeezed his hand in encouragement. “The baby. I… I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. You know that, too, right?”

Katherine tugged her hand back and used it to cover her mouth, a sob sticking in her throat. Now it was her turn to look away, tears filling her eyes even as she looked upwards and willed her emotions to disappear.

Jack stayed frozen in his chair, his hand still outstretched, reaching for her.

“I don’t know that,” she said after an eternally long moment. “I… I’m glad you don’t think that, because I… I did think that you… that you blamed me, and I…” Jack bit his lip and stared down at the tablecloth. Katherine wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady. “Well, I’m glad you don’t, but on… on some level I still do. If I’d just… I mean, I don’t know what I could’ve done, but if I’d… if I’d rested more? If I’d stayed calm? If I—”

“Stop,” Jack said harshly. “No. There was nothing you could’ve done, love. Nothing at all.”

“But what if there was?” She begged, turning to him, wrapping her arms around herself. “What if I—that was our _baby_ , Jack, and I—” 

 _“No,”_ he said forcefully. “No. This has been eating away at both of us, but it’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It’s… No. You hafta stop thinking that way.”

“I miss the baby,” Katherine said, fully crying now. “Isn’t that silly? We never even met, and I still…” She coughed, tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, _Jack,_ I—sometimes I dream that I’m pregnant, and then I wake up and I…” She buried her face in her hands, and the waiter who had come to take their order slipped quietly away.

“Macushla,” Jack said, scrambling over to wrap her in a tight embrace. “Katherine.” He didn’t have the words for this, no, but for once he didn’t hate himself for not knowing what to say. No one knew what to say in a situation like this. There wasn’t anything anyone _could_ say in a situation like this. It was all wrong, it would always hurt, and words would never be enough. So instead he held her and rocked her and stroked her long, unbound hair, letting her cry and cry into the heat of the summer night.

Jack realized belatedly that his timing could have backfired spectacularly, bringing up the miscarriage at dinner, but later he was glad he hadn’t thought things through quite that well; his apology and her confession did more to make their night a success than anything he’d planned. It was like they'd spent the last several weeks trying to find each other in a dense fog, and now, after weeks of fighting through the gloom, the fog had finally lifted. And now that they could see each other, now that the air had cleared, they realized that they'd been standing side by side all along.

He and Katherine spent the rest of the meal sitting next to each other, him with his arm around her shoulders, her with one hand clasped in his or resting lightly on his thigh.

“Ready for the next thing?” Jack asked eventually, scraping the last bits of chocolate frosting into his mouth with a dainty silver dinner fork that had no business being at a restaurant like Jacobi’s.

A tiny wrinkle formed between Katherine’s brows. “There’s more?”

“There’s always more to Jack Kelly,” he said suggestively, leaning in for a kiss, which Katherine inadvertently prevented him from having by bursting into laughter.

“That was awful,” she said, leaning into his chest and giggling helplessly. “What a terrible line.”

Jack gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged. “Ah, well. No one's witty all the time. Next stop?”

“Yes, please.”

 

*

 

The next stop had Katherine melting into Jack’s side again, and he privately complimented himself on crafting an itinerary that had her pressed up against him so often. “It’s our church,” she breathed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Jackie.”

“Do you want to go in?” He asked, rubbing her arm gently. “I told the rector we might be coming by, and he said he’d be around to unlock it if we asked.”

“Really?” She said, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. “Yes, please.”

They made their way to the front of the church, walking up the center aisle hand in hand just the way they had walked down it ten years prior. 

“It seems bigger than it did back then,” Jack commented, looking up at the vaulted ceilings. 

“I was just about to say that it seemed smaller,” Katherine laughed. “It’s still beautiful, though.”

“It is,” he said, surveying the wooden pews and stained-glass windows. “And it hasn’t changed a bit, either—unlike us.”

Katherine’s lips quirked up in a wry smile. “True.” She pulled him down to sit on the steps in front of the altar. “We were so young,” she sighed. “Do you think we’d even recognize ourselves now?”

“What? Of course!” Jack said, wrapping an arm around her. “Why, do you think we wouldn't?”

“Oh, we probably would,” she mused. “We look mostly the same—a little heavier, but that’s to be expected.” 

“I like food,” Jack said, absolutely unapologetic. “And I _really_ like having enough of it.”

“You were too skinny back then,” she agreed, then tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “Honestly, you could stand to eat a little more now, too. Chambers took a lot out of you.” 

Jack grunted. “Is that why you asked if we’d recognize ourselves?” 

“Sort of,” she admitted. “In the sense, that, well, we’ve just been through so much that we couldn’t have imagined happening to us, you know? I never expected that I’d nearly lose you to a madman.”

“I never expected I’d nearly lose you to that horrible nothingness,” Jack replied, pulling her closer as he thought of the severe depression she’d endured after Eleanor’s birth.

“Or that we’d feel so distant from each other sometimes,” she said, reaching up to grip his arm.

“I’m glad we didn’t know that would happen,” Jack said roughly. “That would’ve broken my heart.”

“Mine, too,” Katherine whispered, looking out into the empty sanctuary, thinking back to the day they’d stood before a cheering crowd of their friends and family and sworn to cherish each other forever.

“Do you think we’ll feel that way again?” He asked after a while, and she heard the tension underlying his words. 

“Probably,” she admitted, “But I’m beginning to think that’s just how it is. And we always find our way back to each other,” she said, squeezing his elbow. “We’re fighters, you and me. So even if we drift for a bit, it won't last; we'll fix it. I’ll always fight for you, dear heart.”

“And I’ll do the same,” he said, his voice husky. He bent to place a kiss to her hair, and she felt him relax behind her. “Ace,” he said after a long pause, “It’s been a good ten years, hasn’t it?” 

“Wonderful,” she said, that single word suffused with so much love that Jack felt his heart began to lift. “I never imagined marriage could be so… full.” 

“And you’ve got a good imagination,” Jack teased.

“Oh, I do,” Katherine said, completely serious. “I imagined being married to you would be an adventure, and it has been, but it’s been so much more than that, too. It’s been—well, it’s been laughter and excitement and exploration and—can you believe that we have children, Jack? Little humans who drive us crazy and make us happier than we knew we could be? And I get to do all of this with the love of my life.” She leaned back against him and waited for him to rest his head on hers. “My heart still flips when I see you, you know.” 

“Really?” Jack asked, his eyes crinkling and a smile beginning to tug at his lips.

“Mhmm,” she said, nodding against his chest. “When I come home from work and see you, my heart gives a funny little twinge because oh my heavens, I’m married to the most amazing man in the world.” She laughed. “I don’t think that feeling will ever change, Jack. No matter how old the two of us are, I don’t think I’ll ever stop marveling at the fact that of all the people in this crazy life, you chose to marry _me.”_  

“That amazement goes both ways, macushla,” he said, and she could hear the sincerity and contentment in his voice. “Sometimes when I look up and see you sittin’ across the table from me, or when I’m lyin’ in bed with my arms around you, or when I see you holdin’ one of our kids, or when I read the paper an’ your byline is right there, or, hell, when I see ya wearin’ your oldest dress an’ scrubbin’ the toilet—I have to stop a moment an’ catch my breath on account of how lucky I am ta be married ta you. You could’ve had anyone—anyone at all—an’ yet you picked me.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I still dunno how it happened, if I’m honest.” 

“Me, either,” she said in wonderment. “And I love that even after all these years, you’re still surprising me. There’s so much about you to love, Jack Kelly, and I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life doing just that.” 

“Well geez, now I wanna hold you close and never let you go,” Jack chuckled. “You sure know how ta make a man feel good.” 

“Oh, stop it, you sweet talker!” She said, swatting at his arm. “Don’t you go flattering me for no good reason.”

“But maybe I have a good reason,” Jack teased, nuzzling at her ear. “Didja ever think of that?” 

“Hmm,” Katherine said, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose I’ll have to consider the idea, husband dearest.”

“You do that,” Jack said. “An’ I’ll just sit here an’ enjoy ya while you do. The hotel c’n wait.” 

“Good,” Katherine said, and scooted into his lap. They were quiet and still as they watched the sunset chase the colors of the stained-glass windows around the room and saw the shadows begin to lengthen. When the room started fading to dusky gray, Katherine spoke, her voice low and tentative. “Would you do it again, darling? Knowing what you know now, I mean. Would you still ask me?” 

Jack blinked. “To marry me?”

She nodded.

“In a heartbeat,” he said, his voice firm. 

“Even though I can’t cook and I’m short-tempered and I push you and the kids too hard sometimes?” 

“Absolutely,” Jack said. “I think the better question is if you’d still say yes to _me._ Dealin’ with me ain’t never been a walk in the park.” He huffed a laugh. “An’ recently it’s been more like bein’ on a jungle safari.” 

She laughed, too. “I _adore_ you, Jack. Crocodiles and hippopotami and all. You’re the man of my dreams, and I can’t picture being this happy with anyone else. Ever. You’re my safe harbor, and I’ll always, always say yes to you.” 

He smoothed a hand over her curls and released a soft breath. “I’m glad to hear that. I really am.” They listened to the last birds singing goodnight to each other, and Jack ran a thumb across her cheek. “We’ve worked so hard for each other, haven’t we?” 

Katherine leaned into his touch. “Yes.” 

“And we’ll keep doing that, yeah? You and me, together against whatever comes our way.”

“Yes, love. Always.” 

His hand found hers, and he ran his fingers over the engagement ring he’d designed for her and the golden wedding band he’d scrimped and saved to buy. “For sure?”

“For sure.”

Jack smiled, and they kissed—only briefly, though, thinking of the rector, who surely wanted to lock the church up soon, and of the fancy private hotel room that Jack had booked for the night. 

“Happy anniversary, macushla.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July 21st, 1914, was indeed a Tuesday. 
> 
> I don't know why this story has taken me so long. I really do apologize for updating so goshdarn slowly! Travel + not enough sleep + usually I write at night but my schedule's got me up so early that I can't really do that much nighttime writing anymore... ah well, I hope you liked it despite the delay!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack babysits seven children at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: References to what's happened previously. If you have doubts/concerns, lemme know. This is a pretty mild chapter, tbh.
> 
> Character notes (keeping the ages of all these kids straight is difficult for me):  
> Jack & Kath have 3 kids: Ellie is 5, Nicky is almost 3, Theo is 19mos.  
> Davey & Chaya have 1: Miriam, who is 21mos.  
> Crutchie (Charlie) & Rosie also have 3: Daniel is 6, Eddie is 4 ½, and Beatrice Marie is 1.
> 
> Historical notes: WWI started in late July of 1914

**Early August, 1914**

“An’ now a car,” 4 ½-year-old Eddie ordered, jabbing his index finger on the page in front of him.  

“It’s _my_ turn,” Ellie whined, pulling her father’s arm sideways. “Draw me a castle, Daddy.” 

“It’s almost your turn,” Jack said gently, returning his left hand to Eddie’s paper and adjusting one-year-old Beatrice Marie in his lap. “I said I’d draw Eddie four things because he’s four, and so far I’ve only drawn three. So one more and then I’m all yours, astoreen. Wait just a minute more, please.” 

Ellie huffed. “ _Okay_ , but I’m _five_ , ‘member? So I get five things. Okay, Daddy? Okay? _Five_ things, not four. Five.” She patted his arm and then shoved her open hand in his face to make sure he knew how many five was.

“Be patient, Bunny,” Jack said, finishing up the outline of the car. “And see? I’m done already. Now it’s your turn.” 

“Say thank you, Eddie,” Daniel reminded his brother from across the table, and Eddie obliged. Daniel returned his attention to the picture he was drawing with Nicky—both of them were fascinated by numbers, and so they often collaborated to create pages full of digits that they would then ask an adult to read aloud to them. “D’you think Uncle Jack is gonna know how ta say this one?” Daniel asked Nicky, patting his younger cousin’s back. 

Nicky laughed. “No!”

“Hey!” Jack objected, looking up briefly from the turrets he was adding to the castle. “I know lots of numbers.” 

Nicholas grinned at his dad and wiggled in his chair at the children’s art table. “What about firty-fifty-teen-two-fousand?”

“Hmm,” Jack thought, outlining a princess in the bottom left corner of Eleanor’s page. “Maybe not. Is that the number you’re making with Danny?”

“Yep!” Nicholas crowed, tugging the paper out from under Daniel’s crayon and brandishing it at Jack. “See?”

Jack gave a low whistle at the jumbled mess of numbers, most of which were ones and zeroes. “My goodness, boys—that is quite a number! What do you think, Bea? That’s a big number, yeah?”

Beatrice looked up at Jack with wide eyes and stuck her thumb in her mouth. 

“Bea says it’s a ginormous monstrosity,” Jack interpreted, nodding solemnly. “And I gotta agree with her. It’s massive. Huge. Bigmungous.”

Daniel and Nicholas giggled as Eleanor rolled her eyes. “That’s not a word, Daddy!”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “It’s not?” 

“No!” 

“Well, Bea says it is,” Jack said, his face admirably straight. “An’ I think she’s right. Bea knows lots of words.”

Eddie clapped a hand to his forehead. “Uncle Jack, Bea don’t know _any_ words!”

“Whaaaat?” Jack turned to Beatrice. “You know words, don’t you, baby?” 

Bea blinked and leaned her head on his shoulder, staying perfectly quiet.

“You hear that?” Jack said, turning to Eddie. “She said she thinks the situation in Europe is gettin’ serious an’ we oughta go send a diplomatic mission over ta the Kaiser ta talk things out.” 

Eddie looked at Nicholas, who covered his mouth with his hands and laughed even harder, and Theo squealed from his own chair and threw a crayon across the room. Ellie gasped and dashed to retrieve the crayon, handing it back to Jack before lecturing Theo about how ‘we don’t throw art supplies, Theo; that’s a no-no.’ 21-month-old Miriam watched the scene quietly, a blank sheet in front of her. 

“Hey there, Mimi. You want me to draw you something, honey?” Jack asked, finishing up a Christmas tree for Eleanor and scooting over to the toddler.

She shook her head and pointed across the room to a pile of books stacked on an endtable. 

“Oh, you want to read a book?” 

Miriam nodded, and Jack hoisted Beatrice onto his hip before standing up. No sooner had he taken a step, however, than Eleanor raced by him, bumping him roughly sideways. Jack winced and rubbed at his ribs, wishing they’d go ahead and heal up already, but instead of scolding her he simply shook his head and watched her skid to a stop in front of the stack. 

“I’ll do it!” She yelled, snatching several books off the top of the pile and dropping two of them on the floor as she dashed back to the art table. “I’ll read it! Want me to read to you, Mimi?” Ellie cooed, kissing Miriam’s round cheek. Miriam nodded, and Eleanor knelt down by her cousin and opened the book.

Jack smiled, watching the six happy children clustered around the art table. “Come on, then, Bea-Bea Marie,” he said, heading to the kitchen. “Maybe we c’n clean up the lunch mess now, hmm? Wanna sing the clean-up song with me, baby?” 

Beatrice smiled around her thumb and bounced up and down on Jack’s hip as he sang. “These dishes is dirty, they’s startin’ ta smell, so pass me the soap an’ I’ll scrub ‘em up well!” He moved a highchair next to the sink and plopped Bea down, strapping her in securely before pulling a dishtowel out of a nearby drawer. “I got so many kids I do dishes a lot, so turn on the water an’ make sure it’s—”   

“Noooooooooo! I hate you! I _hate_ you!” An ear-piercing scream echoed in from the living room, followed by a thud and the sound of two children crying, their wails steadily increasing in volume. Jack could tell just by the sound that it was Eleanor and Edward, and he was pretty sure that he already knew what had happened. He sighed, doublechecked the clip on Beatrice’s belt in the highchair, and walked down the hall. 

“Alright, kids,” he said, putting on a stern face. “What’s going on?”

Eddie was sitting in a heap on the floor, his head tilted back so that his screams bounced off the plaster ceiling, amplifying the sound.

Jack rolled his right shoulder. “Eleanor?”

“Eddie ruined my picture!” She said, only slightly more coherent than Edward. “Look, Daddy, he _ruined_ it!” She snatched a piece of paper off the table and brandished it at Jack, who squinted his eyes at the scribbled colors.

“I think it looks nice, Eleanor,” Jack said, squatting to examine it more closely.

“No!” She sobbed. “No! He made my unicorn _blue!_ It’s s’posedta be _green_ , an’ he made it _blue!_ It’s _ruined!”_  

Jack gave an understanding hum. “Did you ask him to help?”

“No! He just drew on it!” 

Jack turned to his honorary nephew. “Edward? Why did you color on Eleanor’s drawing?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie cried, flopping forwards and letting his arms splay sideways. “I don’t knooooow!”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Jack asked, sitting the boy back upright. “Did you see it and want to color it, maybe?”

“I don’t know,” Edward wailed, covering his eyes with his hands. “I just did it. I don’t know!” 

“Ellie pusheda chair,” Nicky volunteered. “It falled down.”

“Don’t tattle, please, Nicholas,” Jack said, although he had been wondering about the unsettling clunk from earlier and was relieved to know it hadn't been a kid. “Alright, Eddie,” he said, patting the child on the back. “You need to apologize to Eleanor for drawing on her picture, alright? We don’t draw on other people’s pictures unless they say it’s okay. You have to get their permission first.”

Eddie choked back a sob and slumped forward again, his forehead pressed to the floor. 

“How about some calm-down time first, then,” Jack said, picking Edward up and carrying the boy to the master bedroom. “You just cry it out in here,” Jack said, settling Eddie on the bed. “Come out when you’re ready to apologize, and we’ll be happy to see you. D’you want a hug first, little man?” 

Edward nodded through tears, and Jack obliged. “Shh, kiddo,” he soothed. “Ev’ryone makes mistakes. It’s okay. You go ahead and cry, an’ when you’re feeling better I’ll draw you your own unicorn to color, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie cried, flinging himself into the pillows. “Okay.” 

Eddie sounded distraught, Jack thought as he closed the bedroom door behind him, but he knew his nephew well enough to be certain that the boy would be right as rain in about five minutes. Maybe less. Ellie, though… she’d be a little more involved. 

“Eleanor?” Jack said, returning to the living room, where Daniel and Nicholas were whispering to each other, eyes wide, as Theo started to whimper in sympathy. Miriam had retreated to the couch, where she was clearly trying to ignore the ruckus behind her by studying the pictures in an unabridged edition of Grimm’s Fairytales.

“Daddy,” Ellie wailed, throwing herself into his arms. “My picture! My bee-you-ti-ful picture! It’s hideous now!” 

“I know you’re sad, baby,” he said, picking her up and carrying her to the nursery. “I’m sorry about your picture. And it’s alright to be upset. But you can’t yell at people and you can’t push things over when you’re angry. You have to apologize to Eddie for what you said—those weren’t kind words.”

“But I hate Eddie!” She screeched, pressing her face into his chest. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

“I know you’re angry,” Jack repeated, closing the nursery door and sitting down on her bed. “And you’re allowed to be upset. But you misbehaved, too, and you need to ask Eddie for forgiveness. It’s not okay to yell at people like that.” 

Ellie sucked in a sharp breath and glared at Jack. “You yell at Mommy,” she accused, her face mulish and splotchy.

Jack’s blood ran cold and he nodded slowly. “I know,” he said, forcing himself to meet his daughter’s eyes. “And it’s wrong of me. I should never, ever do that.”

“But you do it, an' then you don’t apologize,” she pushed, crossing her arms.

Jack lifted her from his lap and set her down next to him. “I do apologize,” he said gravely, keeping eye contact with her. “I apologize to Mommy a lot.”

“I never seen you do it,” she said flatly, her eyes narrow.

Jack brushed his nose and thought for a minute. “I guess you haven’t,” he said, running his teeth over his bottom lip. "I guess… I guess I apologize to Mommy when it’s just the two of us, and that means that you kids don’t see it.”

“Hmpf!” Eleanor said, clearly unconvinced that he apologized at all.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I… I guess I owe you an apology for that, then, don’t I,” he mused. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I shouldn’t yell at Mommy ever, and if I yell at her in front of you kids, then I need to apologize to you, too. I’m sorry I haven’t done that before now, an’ I promise I’ll start.”

Ellie gave him a skeptical look, her thick eyebrows pulled tightly together in a way that Jack recognized from Katherine. 

He shifted on the small mattress and used his most serious voice. “Eleanor, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for yelling at Mommy in front of you, and I’m sorry I haven’t apologized to her so you can see me do it. That was wrong of me, and I promise I will try to do better in the future. Do you forgive me?”

Eleanor nodded.

“Thank you,” Jack said, giving her a hug.

“You're welcome," Eleanor said, patting Jack on the back. "But I’m still not gonna 'pologize to Eddie,” she warned as Jack released her.

“You don’t have to do it right now,” Jack said, “But you do have to say sorry to Eddie at some point, and you have to stay in the nursery until you're ready to do that.”

“No!” Ellie said, bursting into tears again. “My picture! He ruined it! I’m not sorry!” 

“Take some time to calm down,” Jack said, knowing that Eleanor could throw a good hourlong tantrum without breaking a sweat. “And come out when you’re ready to apologize. We’ll all be so happy to see you when you do.” He stood, intending to leave, but Ellie shrieked in agony and threw herself at Jack, scrabbling frantically for purchase on his sleeve. 

“Don’t go!” She pleaded, her pitch growing higher and higher as she became increasingly agitated. “No, Daddy, please, don’t leave me, don’t go, Daddy, no, no, no, I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be good, I’ll be good! Don’t go! I promise! I’ll be good! I’ll be _so_ good!” 

Jack felt his heart clench at how quickly she’d gone from standard kindergartener frustration to wild-eyed desperation. “Ellie!” He said, dropping back onto the bed and scooping his little girl into his lap. “Eleanor, darling, what’s wrong?” 

“I’ll be good!” She gabbled, clinging to him like the world was about to end. “Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t leave me again!” 

Jack’s eyes prickled. “Sweetheart,” he said, enveloping her almost completely in his strong arms. “Bunny. Ellie-girl. I’m not leaving you. I’m staying right here in this apartment. I ain’t… I’m not going anywhere, astoreen. I promise.” 

“But you did,” she whimpered, pressing her nose into his ribcage. “I was bad, an’ you left. I’ll be good now, Daddy, I’ll be so good—I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She scrambled out of his lap and raced to the door, casting a terrified look behind her. “I’m gonna say sorry, see? I’m gonna be good!”

“Eleanor!” Jack snapped, grabbing her away from the door and sweeping her up into his arms in one smooth motion. “I am not leaving you. There is nothing you could ever do to make me go. Do you understand that?” He felt her gasping for breath against his chest as she continued to cry, her terror causing her to cough and tremble. “You can be as bad as you like, baby,” he said fiercely, “And I will still love you more than anything in the whole wide world. You c’n scream at me all day every day and I will still be here, okay? It doesn’t matter how good you are or how bad you are or how—or how anything you are at all, Eleanor Joy—I love you no matter what, baby. Always. Forever. I promise. No matter what you do, you will never, ever, ever make me leave you.”

He felt her shudder, wrap her legs around his waist, and continue to cry, though the intensity had lessened somewhat. 

“You hear me, Bunny?” He asked, running his bent hand up and down her back. “You could be the worst person ever, and I wouldn’t leave you.” He smiled, pulling gently at one of her short curls. “Got it, kiddo? You could throw my shoes out the window and I wouldn’t leave you.” Ellie stilled. “You could smear toothpaste all over the toilet and I wouldn’t leave you.” Eleanor ventured a giggle. “You could… you could draw all over the walls with my best pencils and I wouldn’t leave you.”

She laughed then and peeked up at him. “Daddy?”

“Yes, little miss?”

“What if… What if I ate alla the cookies?”

Jack shook his head. “Still wouldn’t leave you.”

Her eyes sparkled. “If I put dirt on your pillow?”

“Nope. Wouldn’t leave you.”

She grinned. “What if I screamed in church an’ ran out into the street an’ went ta Gramma’s all by myself an’ didn’t tell you where I was going?” 

Jack grinned back. “Not even then, Eleanor Joy. I’d still be your Daddy, I’d still love you very much, and I still wouldn’t leave you. Not ever.”

She flung her arms around him again and smiled. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, Bunny.” He kissed the top of her head and set her down on the bed, kneeling in front of her. “Are you feeling any better, lovey?”

She nodded and reached for Snugglebun, who was nestled in the corner of her bed.

“Good. What do you want to do now, then? Do you want to come out and apologize to Eddie, or do you want a little more time to yourself? I won’t leave the apartment, no matter what you pick.”

Ellie smiled down at Snugglebun and cradled the stuffed rabbit in her arms. “I think… I think I’m gonna stay here an’ teach Snugglebun about not yellin’,” she said. “I’ll come out later." She looked up at her father, her eyes red from crying and her smile sweet enough to melt his heart. Okay, Daddy?”

Jack nodded and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Okay, baby. I know you’ll teach Snugglebun all the right stuff. You come out when you’re ready, an’ I’ll be there when you do.” He chucked her under the chin and kissed her again. “I promise.”

Ellie nestled into her bed and hugged the cloth bunny to her chest. “Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, sweetie. Love you.”

He closed the door softly and took a few deep breaths to steady himself, hoping that Eleanor would begin to heal from all that Chambers had done to her. To their family. He had hope that they'd find a happy normal again—and soon, too—but moments like that were... Well. They were difficult, both for him and for her. 

After checking on the four little ones still in the living room, Jack returned to the kitchen to tickle Beatrice’s round stomach and finally start on the dishes. He’d only had time to rinse a few cups, however, when he heard a knock at the front door. “Hang on, Bea,” he said, stopping in the middle of the next verse of his dirty dishes song. “Davey,” he said as he opened the door, his surprise evident in his voice. “Where’s Chaya? And it’s early, too! Rosie’s not comin’ by f'r her kids for another hour or so.”

“It’s technically my lunchbreak,” Davey explained, following Jack down the hall. 

“At 4 in the afternoon?” Jack raised an eyebrow. 

Davey shrugged. “I can take it when I want, sort of, and Chaya’s too sick to pick up the kids today, so I figured I'd eat late.”

Jack grimaced. “She gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Davey said, and if Jack hadn’t known Davey for almost half their lives now then he would definitely have missed the slightly increased warmth in his friend’s voice.

As it was, Jack didn’t press for an explanation, but instead called out, “Mimi! Guess who’s here!”

A pitter-patter of little feet sounded as Miriam Jacobs rounded the corner and flung herself into her father’s arms, beaming widely.

 _“Na, Mirele?”_ David said softly, picking up his only child. _“Alts gut?”_

She nodded and peered up over her father’s shoulder to watch Mitzi the cat saunter down the hallway and settle in front of the nursery door. 

“She was great today, Dave,” Jack said, clapping Davey on the back. “Asked to read about twenty different books an’ sat still for all of ‘em.” 

David blinked in surprise. “She talked?” 

“Well, no words,” Jack admitted, “But she understands and nods and points an’ stuff.”

Davey sighed. “I swear she talks at home,” he said, shaking his head. “She loves coming here, too—tells us all about it. I promise, Jack, she—”

“Aw, it’s okay,” Jack said, waving Davey off. “My kids’re rowdy; it’s hard enough f’r me an’ Kath ta get a word in edgewise sometimes, let alone someone as polite as Mimi. She’ll talk ta us when she wants to; no sense rushin’ her. I ain’t worried, an’ don’t you be, either.” 

Davey made a noise of agreement, but the line between his eyebrows didn’t go away. 

“Dave, really,” Jack said, lightly squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “She’s a real smart kid. She's like a little sponge, just soakin' up ev'rythin' she hears. She’s gonna be fine! An’ how many languages does she hear every day between me an' Rosie an' your family all lookin' after her? About a million, right? She’s just sortin’ ‘em out in her head, is all. Gotta figure out what words we’s usin’ here, since they’s diff’rent than the ones at home. Ain’t that right, little bean?” He laid a finger on Miriam’s nose and laughed as she smiled up at him.

“It’s not that,” Davey burst out. “Everything that happened was my fault, and I don’t know how you can stand to take care of my daughter and joke and smile with me when I’m the one who got you hurt!”

Jack withdrew his hand and blinked. “What?”

David clapped a hand to his scalp and shook his head rapidly. “If I hadn’t gone in the store, or if I’d come out faster, or if I’d made you come in with me, none of this would’ve happened! You’d still be working at your office instead of taking care of everyone’s kids and— _fuck,_ Jack, watching Kath and the kids slowly fall apart while you were gone, and then finding you in that shithole and seeing you so—so—well, like _that,_  I mean, seeing even just a _piece_ of what that bastard put you through, I—” he broke off with a cry of frustration.

“Davey,” Jack said roughly. _“David._ It’s not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you. Kath don’t either. An’ the kids don't—I mean, hell, Ellie blames _herself._ ” He barked out a bitter laugh.

“Ellie _what?”_ Davey looked up and met Jack’s eyes. “That’s the most absurd—how could she possibly—”

“Well, it makes about as much sense as all the hogwash that came outta your mouth not more’n thirty seconds ago,” Jack commented wryly.

David spluttered. “That’s not—”

“Look, kid,” Jack said, laying his right hand on Davey’s left shoulder and gripping tightly enough to command Davey’s attention. “It ain’t your fault. Chambers has had it in for me since… well, since we was kids. He hated me ‘fore you an’ I ever met, an’ he’d been keepin’ tabs on me f’r weeks ‘fore he made his move. It was gonna happen, an' you was just unlucky enough ta be caught up in the timing, is all.” 

“But I gave him the opportunity,” Davey said miserably, his gaze falling to the floor again.

Jack rolled his eyes. “An’ here I thought you was s’posed ta be the smart one. Ain’t you heard a word I said? He’d been plannin’ this f’r ages. If it hadn’t happened that day, it’d’ve happened the next, or the day after that. He was dead set on seein’ this thing through, an’ there weren’t nothin’ you coulda done ta stop it. Okay?” 

Davey frowned, his brow still furrowed, and Jack sighed. “Look, Dave. I don’t know what more I c’n say ta convince ya, but trust me, I don’t blame ya. No one but _you_ blames you. Which I guess is good, but... well, unfortunately that means I can’t fix this by forgivin’ ya, ‘cause there ain’t nothin’ to forgive.” 

Seeing no response from Davey, Jack shrugged. “Honestly, me an’ Kath’rine talked this thing through backwards, forwards, an’ upside down, an’ the only way you comes inta it at all is when we say how thankful we are that you were the one there that day, ‘cause you kept Ellie safe an’ brought her back without her catchin’ onta anythin’. If it’d been just me there with her…” Jack shuddered. “She’da been a bitty gal all alone on the streets of the biggest city in the world. No way she’da made it home okay. But you— you made sure she was alright, an’ then you helped me get home safe, too.” 

Davey snorted. 

“Well, ya did,” Jack said, shoving his hands in his pockets and scowling. “Ya don’t gotta believe me, but it’s true. An’ it’d be nice if you’d believe me f’r once in your life, but…” Jack shrugged again. “Ah, well. I can’t make ya.”

David ran his thumb back and forth over his knuckles and slowly raised his head. “I don’t feel innocent in this right now, Jack,” he confessed, “But I… I’m gonna try. I… Thanks for all you said. It was such a nightmare, and it was so… I mean, I had no control over anything, so I guess I… Well, it was easier to believe I’d done something to cause it rather than admit that it was… that you were going to…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just really didn’t want to admit that there was no way to have stopped it. It just felt less… scary, somehow, blaming myself. Like, if it was my fault, then I could pretend that even though bad things are probably going to happen, we at least have a chance of avoiding them. You know?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I know. But we don’t. Not always.” 

“No,” Davey agreed sadly. “No, we don’t. We just have to try our hardest and soldier through as best we can.” 

Jack gave Davey a lopsided, bittersweet smile. “Yeah. But we’re good at that, you an’ me.” 

The corners of Davey’s eyes crinkled slightly. “We are. Definitely.” 

Jack gave a decisive nod and ruffled Davey’s hair. “Good. Now you two get on home to Chaya and take care of her, okay? Send her get well wishes from me an’ Katherine, too.”

“Will do,” David said, the slight warmth and anticipation returning to his voice at the mention of his wife. “It’s nothing serious; she’ll be better soon enough.” Davey removed Miriam’s sunhat from a hook by the door and settled it carefully on her head. “Thanks, Jack. For everything.”

Jack punched Davey gently in the arm. “Get outta here, ya sap.” 

Davey grinned and left, with Miriam giving a small wave as the door closed behind them.

That left only six kids under Jack’s care for the rest of the afternoon—although, as he thought ruefully, they were the loud six. And the loudest three of those were permanently his, too. Ah, well; he was used to chaos. Things went smoothly despite the multitude of children and ages and personalities crammed into the Kellys' small apartment, however, with Katherine coming home mere minutes before Rosie.

“Mommy!” Theo yelled, waving his arms wildly from the doorway of the nursery. “Mommy! Hug Theo!” 

"And me!" Ellie called, although she was too preoccupied with her book to leave her bed.

“Me first!” Nicholas shouted, running (and tripping and falling) to Katherine and beating his brother down the hall. Theo burst into tears, and Katherine was fully engaged in smoothing over her youngest child’s ruffled feathers as Rosie came and went, taking Daniel, Edward, and Beatrice with her. 

“I didn’t get to say hello to Bea,” Katherine sighed later that night, once the children were in bed. “She’s such a precious little thing.”

Jack eyed her and tilted his head. “Are you saying what I think you are?” 

“What, that Charlie and Rosie have one of the cutest babies in the whole wide world? Because they do,” Katherine said, laying her book on the nightstand and switching off her bedside lamp. Jack followed suit and rolled across the bed to wrap his arms around her, settling his chin on her shoulder. She patted his forearm, asking for a response. “Jackie?” 

Jack hummed, pressing a kiss to the curve of his wife’s neck. “That wasn’t quite what I thought you meant, no.” 

“Well, what did you think I meant?” Katherine asked, shifting to get comfortable in his embrace. 

“I thought…” She felt him hold his breath for a beat or two as he considered his next words, and she squeezed his wrist in encouragement. “I thought maybe you meant that you were ready to… well, to try again. For another baby, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Katherine said, taken aback.

“We don’t have to,” Jack said hastily. “I don’t mean that we have to now, or—or ever, even—I just—I guess I was wrong, never mind, I—” 

“No, no,” Katherine interrupted. “I—Jack, it’s okay—it’s not that I don’t want to; I just didn’t think…” She licked her lips. “I wasn’t sure _you_ were ready.”

“I think I am,” he said softly. “I want another baby with you, Katherine Kelly. I want that so much.”

“Me, too,” she whispered back, and he heard the smile in her voice. “We make the most beautiful children, Jackie. Let’s have a fourth.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I give you an epilogue better than JK Rowling's.
> 
> (Just kidding; I have no beef with that epilogue, aside from the ridiculously absurd names.)

**Late November 1914**

Jack took a sip of his coffee, pulled a face, and rummaged in his desk for the small jar of honey he knew he’d hidden back there at some point. His nightmares had been particularly bad last night, and although Katherine had soothed him back to sleep each time, he needed this third cup. Three ought to be enough, though—it wasn’t long until quitting time, and any more would keep him up for all of tonight, too, no nightmares required. 

Jack hummed absently as he slid open a desk drawer and pulled out a new bottle of black ink, his thoughts drifting to the dinner that Kate Pulitzer had promised them all when he and Katherine came to pick up the kids that evening. Glazed ham, pumpkin soup, and apple pie, plus maybe some hot cocoa if the temperature continued to drop... No doubt about it, he’d rather be drawing that feast than illustrating a political commentary on the insanity going on in Europe right now, but— 

“Kelly!” Jack’s editor yelled from across the room. “ETA on the cartoon?” 

“Five minutes!” He hollered back, refilling his pen and unconsciously sticking his tongue out as he added details to the faces of the soldiers he’d sketched. Usually he used the likenesses of people he knew for the background characters in his political cartoons—he’d started doing that back when he was a teenager, and since his newsies still enjoyed it, he’d never stopped—but he refused to do that in any of his war cartoons. Not even someone as odious as Oscar Delancey deserved that kind of cameo. 

“Messages?” A high voice called from the entrance to the office suite. “Any messages?” 

Jack raised his head and spotted his favorite office messenger boy, Bug—no, Samuel, he went by Samuel now—standing just in front of the glass doors that separated the illustrators’ floor from the elevator well. “Over here, Sam!” Jack called, flagging down the former newsie who’d helped him out of a sticky situation in Five Points several years ago.

“Hiya, Jack!” Samuel said, trotting over. “The missus loved your mornin’ note. Ya got somethin’ new for me ta give her?” 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jack said, pressing a neatly folded scrap of paper into the boy’s hand. “Thanks, kid.” 

“Just doin’ my job, chief,” Samuel grinned, giving Jack his customary twice-daily response and salute before moving on to the next person who needed him.

A couple of hours later, once Jack had handed in his cartoon and mocked up a few outlines for advertisements, he went outside for his smoke break. He walked slowly down the stairs and exited the building, wondering for the umpteenth time if his editor had ever figured out that he didn’t actually smoke. The man had never called Jack on it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know… 

By the time Jack made it to the small park opposite The World Building, he was breathing heavily, but still—he’d made it down every single flight of stairs without having to sit down. And progress was progress, he reminded himself, even if it was slower than he’d like. He spotted a woman sitting alone on his usual bench, took a couple of seconds to catch his breath, and made his way over, a cocky grin spreading across his face. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, sinking down next to the woman. 

Katherine looked up at him and smiled. “I got your note,” she said, tucking a small bit of paper back into her skirt pocket. 

“And?”

“Another award-winning idea from Mr. John Kelly,” she said, leaning in close and removing his woolen cap so that she could frame his face with her hands and then run her fingers back over his close-cropped hair.

“You think so?” 

“Very much,” she purred, moving to kiss him. 

He happily reciprocated, losing himself in the moment. The kiss ended naturally and tenderly, their eyes fluttering open in tandem. Jack sighed, pressing another soft kiss to Katherine’s forehead before brushing his knuckles lightly across her cheek. “I’ll book the hotel ‘s soon as we get home, then, macushla.” 

“Please do,” she said, pulling her scarf tighter around her.

Jack noticed the motion and stood, extending a hand to assist her. “Let’s get you back inside, love. It’s nippy today, an’ we gotta keep you both safe an’ warm.” 

Katherine laughed and allowed Jack to tug her against his side. As they walked back to the office, he draped his left arm around her shoulders and laid his right hand gently on her stomach. “You’re making it harder to walk,” she stated, though he could tell it wasn’t a genuine complaint.

“Want me to stop?”

She shook her head. “It’s nice. Impractical, but nice. And—oh! There, did you feel that?” She pressed his right hand tightly to her belly. 

Jack fell to his knees in front of his wife, heedless of the other people on the sidewalk. “I did!” He exclaimed, his eyes and his smile shining more brightly than the November sun. “Little flutters, just like a bird.” He dropped his gaze to Katherine’s rounded abdomen and pressed a kiss to the fabric of her coat, right where he’d felt the baby kick.

Katherine smoothed Jack’s hair back and gazed down at her husband as he crouched on the dirty walkway. “Yes. I like that. Our little baby bird.” 

He looked up at her, his expression so full of wonder and adoration that it made her chest clench. “I love you, angel.”

She pulled him upright and squeezed his hand. “I love you, too, Jackie.” They entered the building arm in arm, pausing before they parted ways. Katherine took a step towards the elevator and then stopped. “Should we tell the kids soon?” 

“Yeah,” Jack said, his eyes crinkling. “We can even tell ‘em tonight, if you want. It’s happening this time, Ace. It’s real.” 

She beamed and rushed back into his arms, giving him a quick hug before pulling away again. “Good. Yes. I—” She kissed him on the cheek and giggled, giddy with excitement. “Good. See you tonight, then,” she said, waving as she entered the elevator. 

Jack nodded and headed for the stairwell, working to strengthen his muscles as per the doctor’s orders. He hardly noticed the burn in his lungs and the tremble in his legs as he climbed his way up—he was too full of joy for anything else to register. The baby was healthy. His family was happy. He was healing. What more could he possibly want? 

 _Nothing,_ he answered himself, settling back at his desk and flexing his left hand before returning to work. _There's nothing left for me to want. Not a single, solitary, goshdarn thing. 'Cause guess what—I already got it all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did NOT think this one would take me so long to write-- for those of you who stuck with it, thank you! And for those of you who started reading it after its completion, thank you, too! (For those of you who abandoned it, well, you won't ever read this note, so I can give you no thanks at all and not offend you in the slightest. How freeing. ;) ) This is my longest completed work (both in terms of word count and time from start to completion), and it was a marathon, for sure-- both for you and for me. Anyway, it's finished now, and I hope you enjoyed it! <3 Thanks for the reads, the kudos, and the comments. I love each and every one of them. :)


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